


Show Me How to Fly

by sosaveme



Series: Show Me How to Fly [1]
Category: Throne of Glass Series - Sarah J. Maas
Genre: Adventure, Childhood to Adulthood, Don't worry, Gen, M/M, Mystery, also on FFN, but the characters get through it, cliff hanger, friends first, later on some romance, originally written on ffn in 2017, some homophobia later in the story
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-12
Updated: 2019-06-18
Packaged: 2019-09-17 05:37:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 26
Words: 38,845
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16968666
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sosaveme/pseuds/sosaveme
Summary: Dorian and Chaol have grown up together. They're best friends, and love each other to pieces--in a platonic way. Except maybe that's not how Dorian feels anymore. Maybe he's got a bit of a crush on Chaol.Then things get a little more complicated when the murders start happening and the two of them start worrying that Dorian could be next on the list. Yeah. So things become a tangled mess, and the two of them try to keep their fragile friendship together, and figure out what is really going on in the king's court. Will the succeed? Or will they--and quite literally, too--die trying?Follow Chaol and Dorian as they grow up together, face challenges, fall in and out of love, and discover the meaning of friendship, love, and loyalty.





	1. A Friendship Begins

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just have a few things to say before I begin.
> 
> First, trigger warnings (which are why this is rated "teen"):
> 
> Suicidal thoughts  
> Abusive father  
> Mild Depression  
> Unacceptance  
> Mild swearing
> 
> To anyone who does not want to read about Dorian and Chaol growing up together: If you want to skip past the first few years that Dorian and Chaol are getting to know each other and just want to go straight to the conflict, rather than read about their relationship as children, go to Chapter Twenty Five. Or come back to this when that chapter is out in a little while. This story is already completely written, but it takes time to post, so expect there to be a few weeks until that chapter comes out.
> 
>    
> Finally, many thanks to my wonderful beta, thekadykate22. She’s amazing and I don’t think I could manage without her. She did a great job editing this story (the first few chapters at least; she hasn't gotten to the later ones yet).
> 
> Also, the A/Ns will be kept mostly the same as the original ones when this was posted on FFN, except for this one. Thanks for reading, and please leave a comment to tell me what you think!

 

Dorian sighed. He hated council meetings. They were so  _ boring _ . He didn’t know why his father had suddenly decided that Dorian needed to come to these. What was the point? It wasn’t like Dorian was going to be any help in any decision making—he was eight years old, for crying out loud!

 

Dorian glanced around the council room. There was nothing interesting about it. The walls were a plain, whitish-yellow color with no designs anywhere in sight. There was a long window on one side, opening it up to the outside world and making it a little lighter. Lanterns lined the walls, but none were lit since it was such a sunny day outside. These innocent features of the place could almost fool one into believing that it was a pleasant, if not happy place. Unfortunately, that was not the case even a little bit. The demeanor of the room was not determined so much by the color or light fixtures, but instead by what lay inside of it. Or more accurately, what those things—those  _ idiots _ —did.

 

Now, let’s take a step back for a moment. Of course, you are probably wondering  _ what _ sits inside.  _ Who _ dwells there. Well, in the center of the room there was a large table taking up almost all of the space. It was lined with a countless number of seemingly innocuous seats, which were occupied by about 36 old, fat white guys with giant mustaches and greying hair bitching about various “problems,” most of which had to do with the war going on. The war that these royal men were on the wrong side of. See, they wanted to take over the world. Yeah. Real original. But their motives and cause weren’t entirely what was important to young Dorian Havilliard at the moment. No, all that he was thinking of was the fact that he was absolutely bored out of his mind and had nothing to do but listen to those idiots drone on and on about useless shit that he couldn’t care less about.

 

The King of Adarlan was going on about something. What, Dorian had no idea. He wasn’t really paying much attention, as could be expected of… okay, almost anyone in his position. His gaze flitted over the council members and saw a boy sitting there that he didn’t remember seeing before. The boy was sitting next to the Lord of Anielle, so Dorian assumed that the boy was probably the son of the lord.

 

The boy’s gaze met Dorian’s. Dorian smiled at him and he smiled back. Dorian tried to remember the name of the kid. If he was the Lord of Anielle’s son, that meant he was either Chaol or Terrin. He looked too old to be Terrin, so that meant he had to be Chaol. He was pretty sure that he remembered his father saying that Chaol was eleven.

 

The boy—Chaol—stuck out his tongue at Dorian. Dorian fought the urge to giggle. He mocked fixing his hair and dusting off his vest and then giving Chaol a stern look. Chaol snorted lightly. Lord Westfall gave Chaol a look, but then went back to whatever he had been saying before. Dorian cocked his head slightly and Chaol just shrugged. The King of Adarlan shot Dorian a look and muttered, “I brought you here to learn politics, not to make friends. You can do that elsewhere. Now get your act together and start paying attention.”

 

“Sorry father,” Dorian quietly apologized. He looked towards Chaol with a remorseful look and gave a quick shake of his head that told Chaol they had to stop. Chaol nodded ever so slightly.

  
  


Dorian wandered through the garden, his entourage of guards following at a respectable distance from him. He wasn’t paying much attention, and slammed into something. Or rather, some _ one _ .

 

“Oh! I’m so sorry!” Dorian yelped. He looked up and saw the same boy from this morning.

 

The boy—Chaol—smiled at him.

 

“It’s quite alright. I’m pretty sure it was my fault.” Chaol laughed. Then, seeming to remember his manners, he bowed slightly. “I’m Lord Chaol Westfall, by the way, Your Highness.”

 

Dorian groaned slightly. He hated that title. It just reminded him of who he was supposed to be. Who he didn’t want to be.

 

“I know. I sort of figured that you were one of Lord Westfall’s children, and you look too old to be Terrin.”

 

Chaol nodded slightly. “Ah. Would you mind if I accompanied you, Prince Dorian?”

 

Dorian furrowed his brow. “Sure.”

 

Chaol grinned at him. He seemed to enjoy Dorian’s informal way of speaking.

 

They walked through the garden together, partaking in a pleasant conversation that Dorian actually began to enjoy. When they had started talking, it had mostly just been him being polite, the way his father was always telling him he was supposed to, but Chaol seemed like a genuinely kind person, and Dorian liked it. He didn’t really seem as fake as all the other people around their age group.

 

“So, some things you like to do, Your Highness?” Chaol asked as they passed a patch of daffodils. “Perhaps we have some things in common!”

 

“Please don’t call me that,” Dorian blurted. He felt like the two of them could end up being friends, but even if they did, he still hated it. “If we’re going to be friends, I want you to call me Dorian.”

 

Chaol looked shocked. “Really?”

 

“Yeah!”

 

“Are you sure? You really want me to call you Dorian? And you want to be friends?”

 

“Of course. You seem nice. Besides, I hate all of those formalities.”

 

“Okay,” Chaol smiled. “And between you and I, I actually would rather be called by my first name as well.”

 

“It’s actually ‘you and me.’ And cool. We can be on a first name basis!” Dorian said, smiling.

 

Chaol frowned. “Sure, that’s nice. I’d like that,” he said, still seeming a bit put-off by the first part, and appeared to be trying to decide whether or not to comment. In the end, he let slip out a, “But isn’t it impolite to correct someone’s grammar?”

 

Dorian shrugged. “Sorry,” he sighed. “But you should know that if you can replace the list of names with—”

 

Chaol gave him a look. Dorian grimaced. “Fine then. Don’t listen. Use incorrect grammar.”

 

Chaol shook his head. “I get enough of this from my tutors,” he muttered.

 

“So do I. But evidently, I pay attention.” Chaol let out a breathy and somewhat indignant laugh. “Besides,” Dorian smirked, “isn’t it impolite to tell the Crown Prince of Adarlan that he’s being impolite if you’re lower ranked than he?”

 

Chaol rolled his eyes. “Fine.” It was said in a bit of a harsh tone, but Dorian could tell that he was sort of enjoying the banter back and forth. “But I actually don’t care, Dorian. Those  tutors can go die in some long-forgotten hole.”

 

He paused for a second, as though just realizing how disrespectful he was being, but Dorian made no comment about it.

 

The prince held up his hands in surrender, a playful smile on his lips. “Okay, just trying to help.”

 

Chaol shot him a look. Suddenly, the clock tower began to chime its awful cry. Chaol and Dorian both flinched. Dorian shifted uncomfortably.

 

“You don’t like it either?” Chaol asked.

 

“Nope,” Dorian said. “I never have and I never will. It’s horrible.”

 

“I agree,” Chaol said smiling.

 

Dorian watched Chaol silently. He felt like they could quickly become friends.

  
  


Dorian strode down the hallway alone. He was so proud of himself. He knew he shouldn’t be, but he’d managed to get away from his guards for the first time. He knew that he was going to get in trouble with his father though, and he really wasn’t looking forward to the lecture; however, right now though, he was heading to the library to do some reading alone for once.

 

He couldn’t wait to read without being watched…. He’d be able to get away with so much more! He might even be able to get ahold of some of those books his guards said were “inappropriate.” And in between books, he could climb up the shelves to the very tippy-top and perch there, waiting to scare the occasional passerby.

 

As Dorian pondered what he could do with this newfound freedom, he continued walking at a brisk pace, trying to look as best he could as though he were supposed to be where he was at that moment.

 

He suddenly heard footsteps coming from behind the next corner. He paused, thinking it was his guards, but then he realized that it really only sounded like one person. He peaked past the wall blocking his view. He breathed out a sigh of relief. It was just Chaol. Over the past few days, they’d become well acquainted with each other.

 

“Hey!” Chaol said as a way of greeting. Then he furrowed his brow. “How come you don’t have your guards with you?”

 

“One could ask you the same question,” Dorian replied.

 

Chaol shrugged. “I’ve been pestering my father to let me spend an hour or two without my guards for once. I’ve been on really good behavior, so he let me. I’m pretty sure he only agreed to get me to stop asking. Plus, he figures that there are enough guards throughout the castle to keep me safe for an hour or two. What about you though? You’re far too valuable for His Majesty to let go without guards.”

 

“I sort of slipped away from them,” Dorian grinned. “I can’t believe your father let you off the leash, though! Mine would never do that!”

 

“I know! I was shocked my father agreed, too!” Chaol said playfully. “How did you get away? I’ve never slip away from my guards.”

 

“Oh. You know, I don’t really want to say how I got free. We’ve just met and I don’t want to get you in trouble for doing something similar and I don’t want you to tell anyone how I did it.”

 

“Fair enough. So, where were you headed before I interrupted?” Chaol asked.

 

“Library. Want to come?”

 

“Yeah, I guess. I was going to the garden, but the library sounds great too.”

 

The two headed off in the direction of the library, chatting merrily as they went.

 

“You enjoying this weather?” Chaol questioned Dorian as they went.

 

“You mean the torrential downpour? Of course!” There wasn’t even a hint of sarcasm in Dorian’s voice when he said it.

 

“You being serious?” Chaol seemed surprised.

 

“Yeah! I love the rain! My father can’t make me go outside with the excuse, ‘It’s so sunny! Go out and play!’ It’s what he always does. But if it’s pouring rain, he’s got no choice but to let me wreak havoc inside.” Dorian grinned at Chaol, who shrugged.

 

“Valid reasoning. But  _ I _ like being outside. It’s a way of escaping from everything.”

 

“See, that’s where I disagree,” Dorian countered. “The library is where you can escape from everything!”

 

Chaol, being able to think of nothing more to use as an argument, dropped it in silent agreement that perhaps the library, with all its mystic wonders, was a better place to go if one wanted to leave reality behind.

 

The rest of the walk was spent mostly in silence, and it wasn’t long before they arrived in the room of many arts, prepared to spend the rest of the afternoon reading anything and everything they wished.

 

And that’s exactly what they did—for the most part. Dorian completed two full books detailing magical theories (they were banned—neither Dorian nor Chaol was entirely sure why they were still in there), and Chaol read half of a random adventure novel (“I don’t see how you can stand to read works by Ash Nelson,” Dorian would later say scathingly in reference to the novel and its author).

 

Most of the several hours sitting there were spent in silence, with the occasional word back and forth—“Have you ever wondered what will happen if you father loses this war?” Chaol asked at one point.

 

Dorian, jarred out of the fanciful land depicted in his current book, frowned at this question. “Not a lot,” Dorian shrugged. “I mean, I’m not really sure. I’d prefer not to think about it.”

 

Chaol nodded. “Do you think we’ll all die?”

 

“Chaol!” Dorian groaned. “I was  _ having _ a nice time!” It was said with quite a bit of attitude.

 

Chaol raised an eyebrow. “Alright. Sorry.”

 

“ _ Shh _ !” Dorian hushed Chaol. “I’m reading.”

 

“Well, clearly not if you’re talking to me,” Chaol retorted.

 

“Just be quiet,” Dorian grumbled.

 

Chaol silently mimicked Dorian, making faces at the back of Dorian’s book before returning to his own.

 

After that short mishap, reading was mostly smooth sailing. That is, until Dorian’s guards finally showed up and decided to ruin everything.

 

It happened out of the blue. One second all was well and quaint, and the next guards were storming into the library quite loudly. The librarian, of course, protested this, but they quickly passed him with little to no trouble.

 

Dorian glanced up from the table that he was sitting at with Chaol. He groaned slightly.

 

“We could go hide,” Chaol suggested. Dorian gave it a moment of thought, but before he could respond, his guards rounded the corner. In that moment, Dorian looked very much like a cornered deer.

 

“Your Highness, sir, with all due respect, you can’t just run off like that! We’re under direct orders from His Majesty to guard you at all times on our shift! We’ve been looking for you for the last few hours,” one guard scolded.

 

Dorian sighed. “No, no. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have slipped away from you, I know. I’ll go willingly.” He held out his hands dramatically as though the guard was going to put him in shackles and take him to jail.

 

The guard pursed his lips. “His Majesty wishes speak with you about this whole happening. Follow us.” The guard started to walk away, followed by the others on Dorian’s detail.

 

Dorian glanced back at Chaol, who silently mouthed, “Good luck!” Dorian took a deep breath and followed his guards.

 

**Also, sorry for the crappy first chapter. I know that it felt a little disjointed and didn’t flow well; hopefully future ones will be better.**


	2. Consequences

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi. Chapter two for you. It feels a little pointless to me, but whatever. The story will probably get better next chapter or the one after that.
> 
>  
> 
> Trigger warning: *spoiler alert* The King of Adarlan hits Dorian. It’s not too bad, but I just thought I’d say so.

 

Dorian walked with his guards as slowly as he could manage without it being blatantly obvious what he was doing. That afternoon had been some of the most fun that he’d had in a very long time. It had been amazing hanging out with Chaol in the library without having to constantly be mindful of what he said due constantly being watched. Unfortunately, now he knew he’d pay for his actions, and he really wasn’t looking forward to it.

 

“Can we hurry up, Your Highness? His Majesty is waiting,” one of his guards spoke.

 

Dorian groaned. “My foot hurts,” he lied. It wasn’t a very good one, but it was all he could come up with on the spot.

 

“We can have that looked at afterwards,” the guard told him. “but right now we need to get going.”

 

“I can’t go any faster,” Dorian complained as the men around him began to pick up their pace.

 

The one that had spoken sighed. Dorian knew he should probably know all of their names; let’s just say it was one of the many things he was working on. “Alright, Your Highness.”

 

Dorian had tried to get his guards to not call him things like that, but no matter what he tried, they always refused. In the end, he’d given up and decided it wasn’t worth the hassle.

 

When they finally began to approach the throne room, Dorian’s heart rate began to accelerate. He’d never done anything that was this blatantly  _ bad _ . Up until this point, he’d liked to think of himself as a good kid. Maybe not anymore, though.

 

He realized in that moment just how angry his father was going to be. He’d assumed his father would be upset, but he hadn’t really thought about it that much. What ever happened though, he’d get through it. His father couldn’t do anything horrendous, could he? He began to break out into a cold sweat. Yeah. He was a bit of an anxious child.

 

The doors swung open and Dorian marched in, head held high, determined not to show his worry. It was going to be fine.

 

Queen Georgina was not in the room—only the king was there.

 

“Dorian. I’ve been told that you’ve had an…  _ eventful _ day. Care to explain it to me?” The king had his lips pursed and seemed to be more than a little angry. The average person wouldn’t have been able to tell, but Dorian understood what that chillingly calm voice meant.

 

“I’m sorry, father,” Dorian whimpered. “I really am!”

 

“Why, might I ask, did you do something like this? Go and escape your guards, who are only there for your benefit? Do you think yourself so high and mighty that you do not need such things?”

 

“No, no, not at all!”

 

“Did you simply want to rebel? Make me angry?” The king continued his questioning.

 

“That’s not—Okay, look. All I wanted was a few hours where I didn’t constantly have someone watching me. I hate feeling like I can’t be me. I really am sorry.” Dorian knew that his tone was getting dangerously close to something his father wouldn’t like.

 

“No, I’m sorry. I completely understand. And so do all of the criminals out there, of course! They’re just going to take a break because you wanted one.”

 

Dorian flinched.

 

“Listen to me young man. I know where this is headed. You’ve had a taste of rebellion, and you’ll want more, but mark my words—it is not even a little bit flattering. If you disobey me again, you’ll seriously question why you did so afterwards. Do I make myself clear?”

 

“Yes, Lord Dictator,” Dorian rolled his eyes. He immediately regretted his decision to say this.

 

The king stood from his throne, raised his hand and slapped Dorian across the face, and hard at that. Dorian stumbled backward, tears brimming in his eyes.

 

“Do not disrespect me. You will call me father, Your Majesty, or  _ king _ , because whether you are my child or not, I  _ am _ still your ruler and you will act like it. Now get out of my sight and get these thoughts of disorder and upheaval out of your head. Next time I see you, I expect you to be back to your usual, compliant self.”

 

Dorian nodded quickly. “Yes. Okay. Your Majesty,” he added belatedly. He did his best to hide his face where tears threatened to start flowing.

 

After he left the room, the guard who had spoken before glanced around. “I’m really not supposed to say anything like this, but I think he overreacted. Is that why you were trying to put off going in there? Sorry… I didn’t know about these things. I’m new.”

 

Dorian sniffled a little. He sighed. “Yeah, yeah. I know you’re new. I was worried about his reaction, but I didn’t actually think it’d be that bad. I mean, I’ve got anxiety and I’m a bit of a pessimist, but I honestly didn’t think he’d be that upset.”

 

“Well, that’s fathers for ya,” an older guard said. “They see you starting to tow your way out of line, and they think, ‘Well, this is it. It’s the end of the good behavior.’ Just show him you’re still a good kid and he’ll be fine.”

 

Dorian nodded distractedly. He wasn’t sure he wanted to be good. He’d had a lot of fun being bad, but he didn’t want another reaction like that. Maybe if he was a little sneakier next time…. He was jolted out of his thoughts when he arrived at his room in a lone tower far from other life.

  
  


Chaol was sitting next to his father, who was lecturing him about what he’d done. On and on the man droned.

 

“You must have known the prince wasn’t supposed to be without his guards! Do you realize how much trouble you could be in with the king? How much trouble you may have caused me? I could lose my position here! You were completely irresponsible, and that is unacceptable!"”

 

“I know, father. I’m sorry. It won’t happen again.”

 

“No, it most certainly won’t! Especially since you won’t be spending time with the prince anymore.”

 

“What?” Chaol was shocked. It hadn’t been that awful. He’d done worse.

 

“That’s right! You could have cost me my job, so you don’t get to see him or go without your guards ever again!”

 

“But father, I promise that I’ll be good! I swear! Please, I don’t care about the guards, but you’ve gotta let me be friends with Dorian! He’s the only person I’ve met in this castle who’s worth talking to.”

 

“That’s  _ Prince _ Dorian,” the Lord of Anielle corrected, though he made no move to address Chaol’s request.

 

“Please,” Chaol’s voice broke as he begged his father. He wasn’t quite sure why he was getting so upset. It was just one person. One boy. But it was a boy that over the last week and a half, he’d really grown quite fond of.

 

The lord’s gaze softened ever so slightly. He grimaced. “Oh, alright,” he sighed. “I can’t believe I’m actually  _ doing  _ this. You can stay friends with him,” the Lord of Anielle said defeatedly. “But consider yourself warned!” He quickly added. “And no more wandering around without your guards!”

 

Chaol nodded enthusiastically. “Thank you, thank you, thank you!” He cried, before skipping off back to the library.

 

He knew Dorian would be long gone, but he did sort of want to do a little reading. He’d never been big on it, but Dorian seemed to be, so it couldn’t hurt to try, could it?

 

When Chaol sat down, he noticed a young girl sitting near him. He’d never seen her before. She didn’t look to be anyone special, but he knew that looks could be deceiving. He decided to get up and talk to her, as he was feeling a little lonely at the moment. He wanted to start making more real friends like Dorian. Now that he had one, he wanted more.

 

“Hi! I’m Chaol,” he said, introducing himself.

 

She looked up, as though slightly confused as to why he was speaking to her. “Okay,” she said in a distant voice. She had lovely brown eyes and dirty blonde hair.

 

He frowned at her. “And who might you be?” he asked, sitting down beside her.

 

“Does it matter?” she asked. “I’m reading, which is what I want to be doing, rather than talking to you.”

 

He was surprised by her straightforwardness.

 

“Yeah…. Okay. But can I know your name?”

 

She shrugged. “Okay,” she responded, turning back to her book and continuing to ignore him.

 

He went back to his original seat feeling a little bit discouraged and honestly sort of hurt. Maybe he really wasn’t meant to have friends. Or maybe she was just mean.

 

He grabbed a book resting near his table and started to read it angrily without even checking to see what it was. He couldn’t wait to see Dorian again. Someone who would actually  _ care _ .

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry if this seemed a little dramatic. I tried to write it the way an eleven-year-old or eight-year-old might think about these things. Also, the girl will come to be important in chapter… I don’t know. I’m too lazy to check my story plan. I’m pretty sure it’s around chapter twenty. Anyway… goodnight. Or good morning. Or good afternoon. Or whatever. Bye.


	3. A Friend in Need

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one’s going to be a short one. Hope you guys don’t mind. It’s sort of just meant to be kind of sweat and show how much Chaol cares about Dorian

Chaol was sitting in the garden when Dorian finally found him. He’d been looking all over for his new friend.

 

Dorian sat down next to him. “Hey,” was all he could think of to announce himself.

 

Chaol looked up seeming mildly surprised. “Hi. How did things go with your dad last night?”

 

They hadn’t gotten a chance to speak since the prior afternoon, so neither knew what had happened to the other yet.

 

Dorian grimaced. “Not well.”

 

He turned his face to the side, doing his best not to show the side that now sported a large bruise across it. Chaol seemed to not notice.

 

“That bad, huh?” Chaol sighed. “My dad tried to tell me I couldn’t hang out with you anymore.” Concern crossed Dorian’s face. “Don’t worry though!” Chaol quickly added. “I convinced him that I’d be better.” He grinned slowly. “So basically we can be bad—now we just can’t be caught.”

 

Dorian snorted. “That’s right. If I get in trouble with my dad again…” he trailed off. He didn’t want to think about what would happen then.

 

Dorian looked over at Chaol, who paused. “Dorian, what’s that on your face?”

 

“Oh… It’s nothing. Really. I… er… slipped.” Dorian quickly looked away from his friends.

 

“Dorian, you and I both know you’re a shit liar. Tell me what really happened.”

 

“I don’t want to,” Dorian mumbled.

 

Chaol wrapped his arms around Dorian. “It was him, wasn’t it?” he whispered.

 

Dorian nodded slightly.

 

“Why didn’t you say anything?” Chaol asked as he pulled away. “Someone needs to do something!”

 

“Chaol, it’s really fine. Loads of parents spank their children,” he pointed out impassively.

 

“That’s not spanking! Gods above, does your mother know?” Dorian shook his head. Chaol sighed. “Get up. We’re going to go tell her right now. You shouldn’t be going through this. It’s not right.”

 

“No! This is why I didn’t tell you, Chaol! If he knows I told her, he’ll think I’m weak! Besides, this is the only time it’s ever happened.”

 

“Dorian, you’re eight,” Chaol said, rubbing a hand over his face. “You wouldn’t be weak if you told her. In fact, you’d be very, very brave. And besides, it doesn’t matter if this is only the first time it’s happened. If it’s happened once, it’ll happen again.”

 

“How about this—I’ll tell her if it happens again. It’s never happened before, so maybe this was the only time!”

 

Dorian could hear the plea in his voice, and apparently, Chaol could too. The older boy looked like he was kicking himself for what he was about to say.

 

“Fine. But I want you to swear that you will! I don’t want to see you suffer.”

 

Dorian nodded. “Okay.”

 

“I want to hear you say it,” Chaol said pointedly.

 

“Alright! I swear I’ll tell her if it happens again.”

 

“Thank you,” Chaol said, giving him a sidelong look.

 

Dorian sighed. He didn’t want to think his father would do it again. He wouldn’t, would he? Was he really like that? He hoped to the Gods that the king wasn’t, but he knew in his heart that that man really might be.

 

He curled up next to Chaol, watching the sun slowly sink lower along the horizon. “I do appreciate your concern, Chaol.”

 

Chaol nodded distantly. “I’m glad.” He wrapped one arm around Dorian’s shoulders. “I’ll protect you from whatever happens. You’re so much better than the other people in that castle, and I don’t want to see that change. I want you to stay good forever.”

 

Dorian smiled slightly to himself. “Thanks. For what it’s worth, you’re pretty kind yourself.”

 

“Let’s be friends forever,” Chaol said to Dorian. “I know we’ve just met, but… I don’t know. I feel like we’re meant to be friends. Don’t you?”

 

“Yeah. Friends forever.”


	4. Council Meetings and Fun Times

******** “But  _ Dad _ ,” Dorian groaned. “I don’t want to go!”

 

“You’ll go to this meeting, Dorian Havilliard, or so help me—”

 

“Let’s not be rash, dear,” Queen Georgina soothed. “He’s just a boy.”

 

Dorian prayed that meant he wouldn’t have to attend. Alas, he was not that fortunate.

 

“Fine. He still however, he still must go.” Dorian knew this would be his father’s final word. He repressed a sigh.

 

“Please, father! I’m eight! I’m not going to be making a contribution!”

 

Dorian shifted back and forth as his father thought. He was uncomfortable in the stifling garments that had been forced onto him that morning. He was sweating his ass off and just wanted to go back to sleep. It was the crack of dawn and he hadn’t gone to sleep at a decent hour the previous night. The only thought that brought him any comfort was the idea that maybe Chaol would be at the meeting.

 

“I want you to go because you need to start learning politics, Dorian.” The king knelt down in front of Dorian, fixing Dorian’s jacket collar. One might almost be fooled into thinking the man was an adequate father that truly cared for his son. Whoever thought that would be wrong. “The point is  _ that  _ you’re eight. If you start learning now, you’ll be ready when it finally comes time for you to take the throne. I want you to be prepared and able to be a good ruler to fill my shoes. I want you to be able to make a difference and not crack under pressure. You’ll go to these meetings, like I said, and you won’t complain. Understood?” His tone was soft and gentle, but what was inside of those words was not. Hidden beneath the kind demeanor was a devil lurking, waiting to strike, and Dorian—even as young as he was—understood that.

 

“Yes, sir.”

 

“Good.”

  
  


Dorian walked down the hall, feeling very much like a dog on a leash being dragged around to places he didn’t want to go. He knew already that the meeting was going to take a minimum of three hours, in which we was supposed to sit there and pretend to be interested in whatever boring construct they decided to argue about on that given day.

 

He wished that he had been allowed to bring a book or something to keep him occupied. It was completely unfair of his parents to expect someone his age to sit through something like this. Good God.

 

Not to mention the fact he was to worried he’d do something wrong. He was generally a well-mannered kid, but what if he slipped up? How angry would his father be? Maybe he could just stay silent the whole time. If he did that, there was no way he could say something wrong. Then again… maybe he’d  _ have _ to speak. He didn’t want to embarrass his father. That wouldn’t turn out well for anyone, least of all him.

 

He tentatively sat down in the chair meant to be his, as though it might grow fangs and try to kill him. Almost everyone else was already there, which didn’t make him feel any better.

 

Just then, the Lord of Aneille burst in, Chaol in tow. “So sorry we’re late, Your Majesty. So sorry indeed. We got caught up with some family business.” He bowed low, and Dorian didn’t miss when he poked Chaol in the side, who then seemed to snap out of a trance and bowed as well.

 

“Don’t worry; we were just getting started. You haven’t missed much. Sit, sit.” The king gestured for the pair to take their seats at the table.

 

Chaol sat down next to Dorian in one of the few open seats. The two grinned at each other, and Dorian realized that perhaps he might not be subjected to excruciating agony for the next few hours. Or at least not alone.

 

“Hi,” Dorian whispered to Chaol out of the corner of his mouth. “How are you? We haven’t seen each other in over a week!”

 

“I know!” Chaol whispered back. “I’m doing okay. You look much better. Your bruise is gone.”

 

“Yeah. One of the maids gave me some salve that has really helped. I also feel better. What’s been going on with you?”

 

“Oh, you know. The usual.”

 

Dorian frowned. “Meaning?”

 

The King of Adarlan gave the two a pointed look. He didn’t seem all too happy about the two of them goofing off. They both gave him apologetic looks, as though to say, “We’re such good children. It won’t happen again.”

 

The king looked away and went back to listening to whatever one of the old guys was saying, which probably couldn’t be about anything more important than a broken lantern in town.

 

Dorian and Chaol glanced at each other, remaining silent for a minute or two. Finally, Dorian couldn’t help it anymore. He leaned over and whispered, “Great Goddess, he’s such a tyrant. Can’t he see we’re having fun?”

 

Chaol snorted, doing his best to keep it quiet. “Oh I know right?” He mimed pointing at someone with his finger and a stern look.

 

Dorian laughed a little louder than he’d originally meant to. His father turned to him. “Dorian, is there something you find funny?”

 

“No, sir,” Dorian quickly said, looking down.

 

His father folded his arms. “I’m sure everyone would be delighted to hear what you think of the new lighting plan for the city streets. You were paying attention now, weren’t you?” His voice was full of warning.

 

Dorian shifted uncomfortably. “I um… it sounds good?”

 

“Really now? Interesting.” He turned back to the council men.

 

Dorian looked at Chaol. “Sorry,” Chaol murmured. “We should probably stop.”

 

Dorian groaned inwardly, but nodded.

 

A few minutes later, Dorian turned back to Chaol. “So why were you late?”

 

Chaol shot him a look. “Seriously, Dorian,” he whispered. “I don’t want to get you in trouble! We were just discussing some things that really don’t matter. They’re all hypothetical and probably won’t happen. Now stop talking before we’re  _ both _ put through the wringer!” He looked annoyed, and slightly worried about whatever it was, but Dorian took Chaol’s advice and stopped talking. Whatever it was, it wasn’t important at the moment and Dorian could grill Chaol about it later.

  
  


After the meeting, Dorian ran into Chaol again. “Hey!” he said gleefully. “That meeting was dreadful, wasn’t it?”

 

Chaol nodded. He looked upset by something. “Listen… I’m sorry for making the king mad at you.”

 

Dorian shrugged. “It’s fine. It’s as much my fault as it is yours. I just wasn’t able to keep from laughing. You shouldn’t blame yourself for that. Honestly Chaol. You worry far too much.” And with that, Dorian skipped off, having forgotten the tail end of their earlier conversation already.

 

He did sort of blame Chaol, but he didn’t want him to know that. He could see that Chaol was upset with himself, and he really didn’t want to encourage that.

 

Not too much later, Dorian bumped into his father.

 

“There you are!” the king exclaimed. He sounded far too cheery—Dorian knew that couldn’t mean anything good. “I’ve been looking everywhere. I want to talk to you about that meeting. I would like you to keep going to these, but you can’t do things like that! Do you have any idea how you made me look in front of all those people?”

 

Dorian didn’t meet his father’s gaze. “I’m sorry, sir. I didn’t mean to. It was just so boring and I… I’m sorry. I know it’s my fault.”

 

“It sure as hell is! I told you before not to get in trouble again. My patience is waning young man. I don’t know how much more of this I’m willing to put up with. Lord Westfall’s son is a good kid, and you’re messing with his amazing record! I need you to get your act together.”

 

Dorian nodded. He felt so guilty, even though he knew he really shouldn’t. He’d barely done anything at all!

 

“That’ll be it for now. Run along, Dorian. And stay out of trouble. Please.”

 

Dorian shook his head up and down quite vigorously before dashing away. He didn’t want to stick around in case his father decided upon another verdict.

  
  


“I’m not sure how I feel about them staying friends,” the King of Adarlan spoke softly to Lord Westfall. “It’s been what—three weeks?—and they’re already getting into so much trouble!”

 

“I know, sir. And I, too, am concerned. But perhaps we should give them one more chance? They are, after all, only children, and they need to be around others their own age. They need to make those connections, and, with all due respect, Your Majesty, I think that they might be good for each other.” Lord Westfall wrinkled his brow. He didn’t want the king to separate them. Chaol had been so lonely before he met Dorian. While he wanted his son to grow up to be a successful and well-rounded ruler, he also didn’t want the boy to become cold hearted and thick sculled the way he had.

 

At first he’d been skeptic—Chaol had never been so unruly, or really disrespectful in any manner at all—but he’d slowly begun to see how jovial and lighthearted Chaol had become. The boy had been so beaten down for so long. It wasn’t the type of thing that one wished to see in an eleven-year-old.

 

If it was only mild rebellion, he could tolerate it. It was only natural, after all. If it became too much, he’d have to do something about it, but for now, all he wanted was for his son to be happy.

 

The king sighed. “Perhaps you’re right. I still think that they should be split up, but I’ll allow it… for now. If, however, this becomes a problem, I will not hesitate to do what must be done. I hope you know that, Lord Westfall.”

 

“I do, my king. I do. Please judge them fairly though. Like I said—they’re just boys.”

 

The king nodded slowly. “Yes. Yes indeed.”

 


	5. An Unexpected Change of Events

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Enjoying the story so far? Kudos are really appreciated, along with comments. I’d love to hear what you think, especially helpful criticism. I’m always hoping to get better at writing!

As the weeks began to pass, Dorian and Chaol grew closer and closer. They’d thought in the beginning they’d be friends, but no one really expected them to become as tight as they were. By the time they’d known each other for no less than two months, they were doing everything together.

 

Before they’d met, both had been a little lonely. Isolated. Neither had ever really fit in with the other children of the court, and hadn’t been particularly happy either. They spent many an afternoon in the library or out in the garden, but seeing as the days were getting both shorter and colder, they’d spent more time inside than out lately.

 

One such afternoon the two were, as could be expected, sitting in the library, reading. They never really bothered to go to any of the tables—too many people—so they’d taken to sitting in the middle of various aisles for quick access to new books when they finished the ones they were at that moment entranced in. The librarian did not enjoy this activity much, but seeing as both were higher ranked than he, all the poor man could do was scold them and beg their guards to take them elsewhere. Apparently, he didn’t appreciate two young boys blocking aisle ways and misplacing books with no supervision whatsoever.

 

After what was probably hours of lounging in silence, Dorian remembered something he’d been meaning to ask. “Hey Chaol?”

 

Chaol was snapped from his own little world quite suddenly it seemed, as his head jolted up and his eyes could be observed to be several times larger than usual.

 

Dorian chuckled. “Scary book?” he asked.

 

“A little. What’s up?”

 

“Well, we’re closing in on your twelfth birthday, and I was wondering if there was anything you wanted—I mean, you’re my best friend—actually, you’re really the only friend I’ve ever had—so I thought I should try and do something nice for you.”

 

“Oh…” Chaol trailed off, clearly touched. “You’re my best friend, too. I’m so happy that I’m yours, but I’m not sure if there is anything I’d like.”

 

Dorian nods. “That’s alright. I’ll find something.”

 

Chaol looked back down at his book, but then seemed to remember something. “Er, Dorian, there’s something I’ve been wanting to talk to you about.”

 

“Okay? What is it? You can tell me anything!”

 

“Yeah, I know, but you’re not going to like this. Listen… my father has decided to move the family back to Anielle.”

 

“What?” was all the startled Dorian was capable of getting out of his mouth, which didn’t want to work right.

 

Chaol sighed. “It’s not for a while longer, but in just over a month, we’ll be visiting for a little bit to get things in order. A year from now we’ll be living there full-time, and I have no idea if we’ll ever return. I’m so sorry Dorian.”

 

“How long have you known about this?”

 

“Since that court meeting a while back…. You know, the one I was late to. I didn’t think it would actually happen though! And I didn’t want to worry you…. I’m sorry,” he repeated.

 

Dorian couldn’t even begin to describe how he felt in that moment. His friend who he’d barely known for two months was going to be gone, possibly forever. How could Chaol do that to him?

 

“Dorian…” Chaol said as Dorian slowly began to rise from his seat. “Dorian, I swear I did everything I could to try and convince my father to let us stay—or at the very least me. He’s got his mind set and there’s nothing I can do about it! Dorian, come back here!” But Dorian was already halfway out the door. “Dorian, please!”

 

“Just leave me alone, Chaol. I need some space.”

  
  


Dorian lay in his bed, sobbing into the pillow. He didn’t want to lose Chaol. They’d just met, and yet he’d already become so attached to Chaol. They were best friends, Chaol had said as much just now, and yet he was going to  _ leave Dorian _ in that hell hole. How could he?

 

One of the maids poked her head in. “Your Highness? Would you like some tea?”

 

Dorian glanced back, eyes red. He could see concern written across her face, but he honestly didn’t want to talk to anyone. “Go away,” he snapped. She flinched.

 

“Apologies, sir. I only wanted to help.”

 

“No, no. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have snapped.” She nodded lightly, and the walked out.

 

He buried his face back in the pillow, moaning into it. Why did his life have to be so complicated? Some would kill for one like it, and yet here he was, miserable and bored. If only he’d been born on a farm, or to a lawyer. What if he’d been a doctor’s son? Or maybe if he were an Eyllwian rebel… Anything would have been better than this.

 

He knew it wasn’t Chaol’s fault, but Dorian wished that Chaol had tried harder. Wasn’t there anything that could have been done? He made to get up, but slammed his head into the headboard. “Shit!” he yelled out. The universe seemed to be working against him on that particular day.

  
  


Chaol, resting in his far less lavish room, was thinking similar thoughts.

 

He didn’t want to leave the palace—not while Dorian was still there. He’d grown to care about the boy, and he knew he’d care a far deal more by the time the following year rolled around. He also knew that Dorian was probably upset with him right now, and he didn’t know how to fix it.

 

He’d done his best and that was all he could do.

 

He fought back the urge to cry. He wasn’t going to do it. He just wasn’t.

 

Alas, he didn’t have the willpower for that. Before long, tears were leaking from his eyes. Not too much time passed before they went from nice, pretty, soft tears to a torrential downpour of liquid.

 

He couldn’t leave. Dorian was the only friend he’d ever known. But he knew he’d have to—he had no choice.

 

For now, he concluded, he should just cherish the remaining moments that he had with Dorian and not let anything go to waste, because after that, there would be no more memories, no more laughs, and no more lazy afternoons spent by each other’s sides.

 

He sighed, looking around the room. He hated nearly everything about living in the glass castle; the food was too rich and the people even more so, but Dorian was one of few things he'd miss. He would miss his friend.

 


	6. The First Goodbye

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m so sorry that this is a little late. I got so busy, and posting this completely slipped my mind.

 

As the days passed, Dorian forgave Chaol, seeing as it really wasn’t his fault at all. Both of them knew that there was nothing that could or would be done, and that their friendship was going to be left to rot.

 

Though neither said it, they could feel the time ticking away and their weeks together waning. They held onto what precious bits of it they had left as tightly as they could, but regardless—no man is truly master of Time. All he can do is simply sit back and watch Time slip away from his feeble grasp. We can control what is made of that time, but not where it goes.

 

Dorian and Chaol were just beginning to learn that as they watched the minutes fly by, quickly turning from minutes to hours, and hours to days. It wasn’t long before those days morphed into weeks, and then suddenly Chaol was off to visit Aneille for the first time since he was a baby. It wasn’t for long this time, but Dorian knew it was only the start.

 

Dorian stood with Chaol on one of their few remaining days, saying goodbye to him for what would turn into the first of many, many times—a never-ending cycle that would be shaped by the two young boys growing into two young men, and hopefully, if Time was willing to be kind, they might even be able to become two  _ old _ men together, but that was yet to be determined, for Time seemed to have a mind of her own and was seemingly undecided on the fates that lay to the young prince and lord.

 

Time, of course, would come to decide later, but she wasn’t willing to make a commitment just yet, so they were both still pawns resting on a chessboard, unknown players in an unfinished game come back to finish what had been started long ago. Or so Cain would later say to a time-traveler in an alternate reality.

 

But back to what was happening on that day. Chaol was headed back to Aneille. To visit— _ this time _ . Dorian, on the other hand, was destined to stay in that castle until the day he died—or at least that was how it seemed at that moment.

 

Dorian wrapped his arms around Chaol one more time. “I’m gonna miss you,” he murmured into Chaol’s ear.

 

“I’ll miss you too, Dorian Havilliard.”

 

“How long are you going to be gone again?”

 

“Probably a month or two. I don’t know.”

 

Dorian sighed. He felt tears threatening to fall, but he fought them back. Both the king and Lord Westfall were standing right there, and he didn’t want them to see him cry. He assumed that something similar was going through Chaol’s head, and indeed, it was.

 

Dorian finally pulled back out of the hug, knowing he couldn’t hold on to Chaol forever.

 

That thought scared him— _ forever _ . What a concept. Perhaps his phrasing should have been different—he knew he couldn’t hold on to Chaol until he died. That was better. Because of course forever would never happen, but until they died might. That sounded nice, but it was so unlikely to happen. There was no way they’d both live in such a manner as to choose friends over family and country.

 

Chaol’s gaze met Dorian’s. “Goodbye.”

 

Dorian was jerked out of his thoughts with that single word. Goodbye. It seemed so real. It wasn’t permanently, that goodbye, at least not yet, but it was soon to be. Was this what it was going to be like in a year?  _ No _ , Dorian reminded himself.  _ It’ll be ten times worse. _

 

Dorian managed to nod. He didn’t say anything—he knew that if he did, he’d break down right there in front of everyone, which couldn’t happen. He took a shaky breath.

 

Chaol glanced around. The king and Lord Westfall were currently deeply immersed in their own conversation. “Hey now,” he cooed quietly, so that the two fathers wouldn’t hear. “Don’t cry. Please don’t cry, Dorian. Then I’ll cry, and that wouldn’t be pretty. Deep breaths now,” he comforted gently. In truth, he was only doing so to distract himself from the imminent fact of the impending march forward into Anielle.

 

Dorian did as Chaol said and took a deep breath. He didn’t feel any better.

 

“We’ll be friends forever, though, right?” Dorian asked. “No matter what. No matter how far we go, we’ll always at least exchange letters.”

 

Chaol nodded. “Alright. It’s a deal,” he said. Dorian knew that there was no way of ensuring that this deal not be broken, but it made him feel better about their chances.

 

“Chaol! Time to go,” Lord Westfall called. “The horses are ready and everything’s packed. There’s nothing left to do but get on the road.”

 

Chaol sighed. “Coming, Father!” He turned to Dorian. “Goodbye. It’s not forever… this time.”

 

Dorian watched as Chaol jogged away with those two simple words stuck inside his brain—this time. Yeah. This time. Next time it would be. Or if it wasn’t, maybe whatever happened after that would be the last time they saw each other. Maybe Chaol would drop dead when he was 25. Or Dorian would vanish off the face of the planet with no trace left behind. Anything could happen, but chances were, they’d never see each other again after the current year finished passing.

  
  


As the horses moved away from the castle, Chaol tried his best not to start crying. It was only two months, after all. He shouldn’t be crying over something as small as that.

 

But of course, it wasn’t really that. It was the realization that this was what it was going to be like in less than a year when he was forced to leave for good. He wasn’t prepared for that yet. Not yet, and probably not ever. What was he going to do without his best friend? Without his Dorian?

 

“Eyes on the road, Boy!” Lord Westfall snapped. “It’ll do you no good staring off back at the castle the whole ride. You’ll get your head stuck turned around and all cattywampus! You’d do best to leave the past where it is and just accept that you’ll make new friends and that Dorian is not your future.”

 

“But Father! He’s my best friend! In fact, he’s basically the only friend I’ve ever had! What makes you think I’ll ever find another?”

 

He shrugged. “Maybe you won’t. I’m not going to lie to you, Son. There are more important things out there than friends and girls. You’ll learn that soon enough. Your people will always be first. In a life like that, friends are hard to come by. Forget him. Forget them all.” He paused, scanning the road in front of him, like he didn’t want Dorian to have to do that, but knew it was necessary. Then he continued with, “In the future, it’ll be good that you’re acquainted, but a friendship with him is not necessary, nor is it practical. I’m happy that you’re happy, but it’s not the main thing you should be focussing on, especially as you grow up. I’m sorry.”

 

Chaol sighed. He didn’t want to believe it, but it was starting to look like maybe he’d have to. He tore his eyes from the castle in the distance and looked straight forward the way he’d been instructed to.

 

He didn’t want this life. He didn’t want to be a lord. He just wanted to be normal, and he had a feeling that Dorian wished for the same.

 

**Chapter Release Date: October 29, 2017**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Yeah, I know. I just felt like I should have Time be a person, controlling things the way the Greek fates did in the old myths. Cheesy? Okay, maybe.


	7. Just Two Months

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: The King of Adarlan slaps Dorian in this chapter.
> 
> Warning: Dorian appears to be in a mildly depressed mood, but it’s only implied. Just thought I should add that.

 

Dorian stood on the balcony of his room, staring out at the world. It seemed so lithe, graceful, flexible, and gentle. So easily bent and changed; it flowed and turned as though that were nothing. Sure, it was wet and rainy, but at least it seemed normal. It seemed as though the world was fine. And yet somehow, he, Dorian, the Crown Prince of Adarlan, was not.

 

His mother would be yelling if she could see Dorian at the moment. He was dressed in sweatpants and a bathrobe, standing in the pouring rain, and looking completely disheveled.

 

He missed Chaol. It had barely been a week, and yet he was already miserable. Life was so dull without his best friend. He could go to the library and read, but it wasn’t the same without Chaol there to make the occasional comment, lightening the mood. It wasn’t the same without Chaol there to cause trouble with. It wasn’t the same  _ without Chaol _ .

 

Court meetings were a drag when his best friend was absent. They were absolute hell. Three or four hours of listening to the most boring conversations on the planet with nothing else to do.

 

Everything just seemed so bleak and useless now. And that was how it was going to be after Chaol left for the second time, and it would stay like that.

 

His tutors were even more boring than before, if that was even possible. Lecture after lecture. It was just a blank canvas of white, void of anything exciting or interesting that might hold even the slightest hint of joy or happiness.

 

Then there were the parties. The royal gatherings. He’d only gone to one since Chaol had left, and they had been torture. He’d sat at a table by himself for all five and a half hours, fiddling with the silverware until a maid scolded him for it, at which point he turned to the red and gold table cloths and his imagination to bring him pleasure.

 

Anyway, it was Chaol’s birthday in two weeks. That was the only thing that brought him any joy. He wrote Chaol a long letter, mostly bitching about how bored he was, but detailing how much he missed and loved his best friend. It took him two days to write, and another day to edit. He wanted to make sure it was perfect.

 

His father was upset with this behavior, naturally, since it meant that Dorian was cooped up in his room all day for half a week. And that was for the letter  _ alone _ .

 

In his exact words, “Young boys should be out playing and having fun, and should  _ not _ be in their rooms all the time writing to each other. That’s what they should be doing with girls. Of course, at a more appropriate age so that they can—” And then the douchebag proceeded to ramble about women being property and other things that Dorian completely disagreed with.

 

By the end, the only point Dorian had really taken in was that his father could talk for longer than the average person without taking a breath, and that the king’s mouth was very large.

 

Dorian, of course, at this age thought nothing of the “girls” part. Chaol was his best friend. Why wouldn’t he try to create a nice letter for him? And why would anyone want to date? Or at least date a  _ girl _ . They were nice and all, but… Yeah, okay, conversation for later.

 

Back on topic, the days after that dragged on, one becoming the next as easily as mud spilling into a winding river on a rainy day. Each one was the same as the last, and each could be expected to be just as boring as the next.

 

Dorian took no pleasure in most of his usual activities, and spent more time sleeping than doing anything else. This, clearly, was not behavior one wished to see in an eight-year-old. It was, in fact, behavior one would wish to observe in no one.

 

An average morning of Dorian’s went something like this:

 

7:00 a.m.

The door of Dorian’s room burst open. “Get up. You need to go to breakfast,” his father said.

 

Dorian gave a half hearted grunt, before rolling over and falling back asleep.

 

8:00 a.m.

A maid bustled into Dorian’s room. “You missed breakfast, dear, so I’ve set some out on the table in the next room. You should be getting up soon.” Then she bustled out, leaving Dorian only half awake.

 

Then, he pulled the blanket back over his head, and went back to sleep.

 

9:00 a.m.

Queen Georgina wandered into the room, and shook Dorian. “What are you, dead? You need to get going! If you don’t get up now, you’ll miss your lessons!”

 

Dorian sighed, nodding in agreement. When his mother left the room, however, he went right back to sleep.

 

9:30 a.m.

The same maid as before hurried back in. “Your mother is getting upset, Dorian! Your tutors are waiting. Come on now, let’s get you up, get dressed, you don’t have time to eat breakfast…” she marched around the room, pulling out clothes for him and laying them out on the bed.

 

Dorian just shook his head, crawling back under the covers. “Go away. I’ll get dressed on my own.”

 

“Oh… Are you sure, dear?” she asked.

 

He nodded, and when the door shut for the fourth time that morning, he went—that’s right—back to sleep.

 

10:00 a.m.

Queen Georgina stormed into the room, her face screwed up in an intense mixture of rage and annoyance with Dorian. “Get moving! Your tutors aren’t happy!”

 

“Good,” Dorian mumbled into his pillow. His mother shook her head.

 

She yanked down the covers, exposing his shivering body to the cold morning air. “Up. Now,” she commanded him.

 

He groaned.

 

“You can’t keep doing this, Dorian!” she cried.

 

And after that, they’d spend about half an hour wrestling with each other as Dorian attempted to return to the Land of Dreams, and Queen Georgina tried to get him into the World of the Living. I’d explain it in detail, but you’d be horrified. Let’s just say that Georgina left the room both maniacally pleased with herself for getting her son out of his bedroom and furious, for she had yet  _ another _ bite mark from him to go clean.

 

Dorian, on the other hand, left upset and forlorn over the fact that he did  _ not _ get to sleep until noon like he so desired, and disappointed he hadn’t bitten his mother harder. Maybe she’d have given up if he had.

 

This behavior did not go unnoticed by the king, as checked out as he might usually have been about the goings on in his son’s life. And, impressively enough, he actually seemed to be concerned. He did not, however, display it in the way that most caring fathers would.

 

Queen Georgia would have paid more attention, as she was a more competent parent, but there was one other child she had to worry about—one that was not yet born.

 

The lovely queen was very pregnant at that moment, and her behavior was just about as erratic as Dorian’s was, but that was normal for a pregnant woman. At least that was what Dorian was told.

 

These morning struggles with Dorian were about as far as her interactions went with him most days, and would most likely remain that way until she was put on permanent bedrest, at which point she would hardly see any of him at all.

 

She did, on occasion, check in with Dorian and see how he was doing, but she really didn’t pay as much attention as she might have, were she in her usual state.

 

Things stayed this way for long enough that the king even worked up the respect and good nature to call his son to the throne room for a chat.

 

Dorian walked timidly into the room, that cold, fall morning, to see his father lounging upon his glass throne, appearing to be deep in thought.

 

“You called for me, Father?” Dorian asked timidly.

 

“Yes, I did indeed.”

 

“What was it that you wanted, Your Majesty?”

 

In the past few weeks, Dorian had become much more polite and subdued in conversation. While it was quite enjoyable to the ear, it was not the most reassuring when you examined the state he was in.

 

“I wanted to discuss the way you’ve been acting lately, Dorian. You seem upset. Is this because of your friend leaving?”

 

Dorian sighed slightly. “Yes, I suppose it is. I just miss having someone to talk to.”

 

The king shook his head. “You should know by now, Dorian, that you can talk to your mother and me whenever you want, if you so wish. There is nothing that you should feel as though you can’t tell us, and if there is, then chances are it shouldn’t be something you’re doing.”

 

“Yes, I know that, Father, but that’s not what I mean!” He sounded distressed and upset. “I want someone I can have fun with, who I can play with! The way kids are supposed to! I want my best friend back! I miss him, and I don’t think I’ll ever find anyone else that I care about as much as I care about Chaol!”

 

The king pursed his lips. “Dorian, I know you feel that way now, but in time you’ll see that it’s for the best. Emotional attachments will only hurt you in the long run, and distract you from what’s at hand. And I guarantee once you discover girls, you will care about others more than that boy. He doesn’t matter in the scheme of things. He’s useless. Most of the lords are. All they’re good for is bargaining, and I suppose maybe for keeping control over a wider area, but still. He’s useless.” He sounded cold, and steady, and perhaps that was why it hurt so much when he said it.

 

Dorian furrowed his brow. “Of course he matters. Just because maybe he’s not useful to you doesn’t mean I don’t care about him, and if I care about him, he matters!”

 

“No, he doesn’t,” the king responded firmly. “Your people and your family are what matters. He is neither. You will someday rule over him, but given the fact that he too will be a ruler of sorts, makes him less part of your overall people and more part of your council. He is there to guide you and help you, but you will be just fine without him.”

 

“Father, he’s the only friend I’ve got! You have to understand that you’re wrong!”

 

_ Smack! _

 

The back of the king’s hand collided with Dorian’s cheek. “I am not wrong. Don’t speak to me like that, or you’ll find yourself in trouble. Get out of here and think about the fact that you’re saying that one single person that you’re not related to matters. He doesn’t, and you need to understand that.”

 

Dorian whimpered. “Okay,” he managed to press through his feeble lips before scrambling away.

 

When he was finally back to his own room, he flopped down on the bed.

 

_ It happened again _ .

 

What would Chaol be doing right about now? He wished that he were here. Things would be so much easier.

 

He hopped up and began to pace around the room. He’d sworn he’d tell the queen if it happened twice, but he wasn’t sure if he could. Or should. That might just make things worse. He was so lost. Why couldn’t Chaol be there to make everything better?

 

**Chapter Release Date: October 31, 2017**


	8. A Note Arrives

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I’m afraid this is going to be a little short. Sorry about that. It also is sort of just a filler chapter, and meant to be light hearted and fun, as opposed to the previous chapter, which was not. And so sorry for not posting in practically forever!

 

Chaol sat in the foyer of the house he was to live in. It was a nice place. Not as nice as the palace in Rifthold, but it was lavish and extravagant, nonetheless.

 

He missed Dorian a great deal, but probably not as much as Dorian missed him.

 

He was glad to be somewhere other than Rifthold. He didn’t mind it there, but it was nice to switch things up a bit. Rifthold just felt too…  _ conservative _ . It didn’t really fit him. It was proper and stuck up. Everyone used proper language, he hated them all.

 

This was the house he’d been born in.

 

He had no memories of it, but he liked it just fine. It wasn’t home, the way that Rifthold was, but he figured he’d get used to it eventually.

 

The town itself was a lot like Rifthold, but with a calmer touch. If you wandered out of the house at five in the morning here, most others would be inside, sound asleep. That was not the case at the palace.

 

The people were better, too. There were some boys that lived nearby. Plenty of them were of royal heritage, so he was allowed to hang out with them. He wouldn’t call them friends exactly, but they were nice to him and fun to be around. He’d rather spend time with Dorian, but they weren’t too bad.

 

He did miss Rifthold. He missed it a lot. It was home. It was his life. It was where he’d grown up. It was Dorian. He was just trying to look on the bright side, see the positive things about this new place.

 

To make things even better, his father seemed to understand how being away from Rifthold bothered him, and was very understanding about the whole thing. That wasn’t what Chaol had expected. Sure, his father made the occasional comment about how it was better that Chaol befriend boys of his own rank and age, but the man did seem sympathetic about how much Chaol was about to lose.

 

While Chaol overall had a good time in Silver Lake, he was much gloomier than he’d been the prior month in Rifthold. It cheered him up a great deal when a five-page letter arrived from Dorian, wishing him a happy birthday two days before he turned twelve.

 

He wasn’t sure how long it had taken for Dorian to write the letter, but it seemed well thought out and very sweet. He wrote back as quickly as he possibly could, taking much less care than Dorian had. Chaol was mostly just trying to get done with it so that Dorian could read it as soon as possible. Dorian had sounded… a bit off in his letter, and Chaol was worried about him. He wanted to get words of his own to his friend quickly, and hopefully make him feel better.

  
  


After just over a month of staying in Anielle, a notice arrived on their front steps. That morning was just like any other morning in early November, but that little letter changed so much for Chaol.

 

The note was from the King of Adarlan himself, summoning Lord Westfall back to Rifthold. The king wrote that Queen Georgina was looking as though she would give birth any day now, and it was requested that all the council members and their families families be present for the big day.

 

Judging by the ravenous-looking boy on a worn-down horse, the note must have been rushed there as quickly as could be managed with the technologies available at the time, so the Westfalls knew they still had a few days to get back.

 

Lord Westfall, of course, was not too happy about this sudden change of events. He had wanted to spend more time at home to get things settled, but it appeared he would not have such a luxury.

 

Lady Westfall, on the other hand, couldn’t care less what they did. All she wanted was to live in a stable home for more than a handful of weeks and not be forced to move every other month. She didn’t like long trips or camping, and would really have prefered to either be left behind in Anielle, or have never left Rifthold in the first place. However, she dutifully went with her husband back to the capital, not wanting to disobey the king’s summons.

 

Chaol was elated to go back. One more month with Dorian? Amazing! Chaol could have four more weeks in the capital to goof around with his best friend than had originally been expected.

 

There were no pressing matters forcing their immediate return to Anielle after the birth, and it was more practical to stay in Rifthold until the move became permanent.

 

So, naturally, when this small pamphlet arrived in the post, he spent the morning bouncing off the walls and racing up long stairwells, all the while with parents and servants in tow, trying to restore order. It was quite an eventful day.

 

**Chapter Release Date: November 4, 2017**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I hope that all of you in areas affected by the recent storms in the midwest are staying warm and safe!


	9. Chaol's Return

 

Dorian stood just outside the front door of the palace. Chaol’s father had sent a notice saying that they should be there on that very day and Dorian had decided to wait for them until they did.

 

Since his father could think of no extraneous task for Dorian to do, he’d had no choice but to allow his son to greet his friend—much to Dorian’s satisfaction.

 

Immediately after he’d gotten permission, Dorian had sprinted through the halls away from the throne room as fast as he could. He wanted to get his father behind him and his Chaol in front of him. He knew Chaol wouldn’t be arriving for some time, but he just didn’t like the thought of maybe missing it.

 

He gleefully pranced through the hallways, carelessly flitting about.

 

“Sorry…. Opps! Didn’t see you there. Oh! Didn’t mean to knock that over. Woops! Coming through!” There came a steady stream of apologies from Dorian’s mouth as he moved through the corridors, bumping into more than one servant, and definitely causing more than one mess.

 

And so there Dorian stood, eagerly awaiting the arrival of his best friend.

 

And he kept standing there.

 

And standing there.

 

And he waited.

 

And kept right on waiting.

 

Then, finally, when the sun was hovering just above the horizon, he spotted a group of horses and riders moving along the road through the city.

 

He could have jumped with joy, but instead, he decided to sprint over to the herd.

 

He came up on the band huffing and puffing, his lungs burning, but unwilling to stop until he got all the way there.

 

He could feel his pulse in his face, which was beet-red by now.

 

Sweat dripped down his neck and onto his all-too-expensive white shirt.

 

He was so close…. His legs were threatening to give out from underneath him. He hadn’t been getting a whole lot of exercise lately, and he was starting to feel it.

 

When he was just a few meters away, he almost tripped over a bare root, protruding from the ground like an arm from a grave in some creepy story. He stumbled, almost falling, but managed to catch himself, before picking up the pace. He could manage it for ten more seconds, he told himself. It was only ten more seconds.

 

When he finally reached the seven or eight horses and their riders after what was a  _ lot _ more than ten seconds, Chaol put down two arms towards Dorian, and Dorian seemed to know automatically what Chaol wanted.

 

He grabbed Chaol’s hands, and Chaol hoisted Dorian up onto the back of his horse, lifting him up. This action was a bit of a metaphor for most of their lives. Lifting each other up. Helping each other rise. But that was yet for them to learn, though it was one thing that Time was sure of in their future. But that’s something for another  _ time _ .

 

Lord Westfall shot the two boys a look. “Two boys should not ride a horse like that,” he said, scathingly.

 

Chaol rolled his eyes. “Relax, father. It’s fine! Jeese.”

 

Lord Westfall grimaced, but seemed to decide that he didn’t really care afterall.

 

Dorian wrapped his arms around Chaol’s waist. “How are you?” he whispered in Chaol’s ear.

 

“Good.”

 

“Well.”

 

“What?” Chaol asked.

 

“You’re doing well, not good. It’s incorrect grammar.”

 

Chaol huffed. “Whatever.” The two were reminded of one of their first encounters. “Don’t correct my grammar.”

 

“Barbarian,” Dorian huffed.   
  


“Stuck-up snob,” Chaol hissed back.

 

Dorian pouted, and Chaol laughed slightly. “I ran all this way, and you insult me?” he asked, pretending to be offended.

 

“Now Your Majesty,” Chaol said in a mockingly proper voice, “I never meant it like that!” The two of them giggled. “But on a more serious note, have you been alright? In your letter you seemed a little distressed.”

 

“I am. I was! I’ve been feeling awful since you left. I don’t want you to go forever!” Dorian complained, looking very upset.

 

A drip of sweat rolled down his forehead into his eyes, and he did his best to wipe it out of the way.

 

“I know. It’s going to happen though, so right now let’s focus on what’s going on in the moment, not what’ll happen in the future.”

 

Dorian nodded, silently agreeing. He could live with that. They had eleven months of happiness ahead of them. Why ruin it now?

 

A cold breeze blew past the two boys. Dorian wrapped his arms tighter around Chaol, trying to savor what little warmth his friend offered. It felt oddly right, that position. He let that thought go, though.

 

When they finally arrived at the palace, Chaol and Dorian tore off down the hallways. They pretended not to hear Lord Westfall’s scolding shouts from far behind them.

 

They spent the next few days together in a blissful daze, spending every waking moment they could together.

  
  


Weeks passed.

 

Dorian turned nine.

 

Prince Hollin Havilliard was born.

 

The royal family rejoiced.

 

And Dorian mourned having an obnoxious baby brother.

 

Chaol was indecisive as to where he stood on the young prince, but his opinion wouldn’t take long to solidify on the idea that Prince Hollin was not, in fact, a prince at all, but the Devil sent to Earth to incarcerate them all.

 

Dorian, on the other hand, had decided that he hated the child’s guts by the time Hollin was only one week old. No one else could see why, but Dorian had a nagging suspicion that Hollin would grow up to be just like his black-hearted father. Unforgiving. Barbaric. Cruel.

 

Plus there was that little thing called obnoxious whining that drove them all up the walls.

 

But speaking of black-hearted fathers, Dorian had decided to tell Chaol about his father hitting him again. Well, okay, only if it came up. Which it just so happened to not.

 

But anyway, as the time elapsed, it began to feel like maybe Chaol would never leave—maybe never even  _ had _ left. They were closer than they had been before. They knew every one of each other’s dirty little secrets; the fact that when Dorian was seven he had set the kitchen on fire and never been caught was common knowledge between the two. Chaol’s little incident with a gardening hoe and his mother’s favorite hydrangea plant was old news. Even that insignificant detail about the gardener’s toe. They couldn’t imagine life without the other.

 

They spent the cold days in the library. The cool days in the hallways, causing what trouble they could without landing in muck themselves. The warm days they were outside, goofing off in the late afternoon sun. And then there were those days when they were cooped up in the council room for hours on end. They tried not to think too hard about those.

 

They even ended up at a party together. It was boring.

 

It had been held mostly for the adults, but the children of the royal families and the council members were invited to come as well. It was supposed to be in celebration of Hollin’s birth, but the kids new the truth—it was just an excuse for the royal family to show off various parts of the Havilliards’ palace.

 

Chaol and Dorian ended up sitting alone together for most of the time, giggling in the corner about various things. Finally, after hours of torment, the Lord of Anielle marched over and knelt down before them.

 

“Your Highness,” the lord nodded. Then, turning his head, “Chaol.” Addressing the two of them, he began to speak slowly, as though they might not understand what he was saying if he didn’t. “It’s getting rather late for kids. I’d like for you two to go back to your rooms, and so would the king. Is that alright?”

 

The two glanced at each other. A chance to get out of hell early  _ without  _ being interrupted by either of their fathers for the next several hours? They both nodded their small heads as fast as they could. Lord Westfall pursed his lips.

 

“Alright then. Your guards will escort you,” he said gently. Then he turned to the twelve men who were to accompany them. “Don't let them out of your sight. You hear me? These two are little rascals, and both of their parents will be occupied for several hours, so they’re probably thinking up all sorts of pranks they could pull. If they wish for a detour, please use your best judgement.”

 

Chaol and Dorian both grimaced. Were they really that transparent? He’d foiled their plan  _ already _ ! And their plan wasn’t even really a plan to  _ be _ foiled!

 

Regardless, the guards all nodded, and before long, the two were walking out of the party together.

 

As soon as they were out of the hall, Choal turned to look at the men. “May we go to the library? It would just be for an hour or two, I swear!”

 

They all looked at each other, whispering back and forth, before saying that that would be acceptable.

 

Dorian and Chaol hurried off, guards in tow.

 

They spent most of the evening laughing in the library together, having an absolute blast. It was so much better than the alternative—to be stuck in that stiflingly hot room with a bunch of strangers and awful symphony music playing in the background.

 

It got late quickly. They’d lost their guards not too soon after they got there, and to be honest, Dorian was pretty sure that they were just monitoring the door, figuring that the boys couldn’t do too much damage inside a place they loved to spend their time in, otherwise they wouldn’t be allowed back, and the guards knew how much the two adored it.

 

Dorian and Chaol ended up sitting much closer together than they usually did, cuddled up and reading by candlelight in a long row of shelves filled to the brim with a plethora of books and scrolls. Dorian’s eyes began to droop, and slowly, slowly, slowly, his head began to rest on Chaol’s shoulder. He wasn’t really asleep—just resting his eyes—or so he’d later come to claim.

 

Chaol did not fail to notice this behavior. “Hey? Dorian?” There was no response. Chaol sighed slightly, looking affectionately towards the prince. “We should get you back to your room,” he whispered in Dorian’s ear.

 

Dorian shifted a little, and mumbled something too incoherent for Chaol to make out.

 

Chaol, thanks to the past few months of training and sparring, had managed to build up his upper body strength. He easily lifted Dorian into his arms after returning both of their books to the proper shelves. He carried the young boy down the aisles toward the door where the guards stood silently.

 

Saying nothing, he then proceeded to walk the sleeping prince up countless flights of stairs and hallways until they reached Dorian's tower.

 

And then he lay Dorian down on his bed, removed his vest, shoes, and socks, and tucked him in. He kissed Dorian on the forehead, whispered, “Goodnight, Prince,” and left the room.

 

The guards made no comment on this, only nodded to him, and then split up into two groups—one to stay at Dorian’s door and the other to follow Chaol.

 

**Chapter Release Date: November 12, 2017**


	10. Seasons Changing

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: This chapter is a little sad. Dorian seems depressed, though once again, it is not flat out stated. I really like the first part of it. I don’t know about you, but I like the way if flows.

****Winter turned to spring, as could be expected. The snow melted, barren branches giving life to soft green leaves, and grass could be seen sprouting from the muddy ground. Rain dumped from the sky nine days out of ten, and the temperatures slowly rose. Dorian and Chaol spent most days in the library.

 

Spring turned to summer, as could be expected. The rain stopped, flowers burst from the gentle buds on branches, and grass could be seen turning yellow with heat. The sky was clear and blue nine days out of ten, and the temperatures stayed steady at hot-as-hell the majority of the time. Dorian and Chaol spent most days outside.

 

Summer turned to fall, as could be expected. The rain resumed, flowers wilted from their tarnished branches, and grass could be seen sagging and drooping, as though each individual blade was attempting to return to the ground. The air was full of mist and gray nine days out of ten, and the temperatures began to drop to a chilling cold. Dorian and Chaol returned to the library.

 

Fall turned to winter, as could be expected. Snow began to fall, branches became barren, showing no signs of life whatsoever, and the grass could no longer be seen once more. The sky was gray and white and cold nine days out of ten, and the temperature remained at an annoying temperature of freeze-your-ass-off degrees Celsius. Dorian and Chaol could no longer be observed together, as Chaol was now gone for good.

 

Yes, indeed, thirteen-year-old Chaol had left ten-year-old Dorian, and he probably wouldn’t live there ever again, but it really depended on what Time had in mind for the rest of their lives.

 

Days passed, as could be expected. The gray skies became a metaphor for Dorian’s depressive mood, deadened trees seemed to show what Dorian felt inside, and the grass that was no longer there seemed to represent Chaol. Dorian cried himself to sleep nine days out of ten, and the temperatures that froze him to death became what he craved, since at least he felt something when he was cold, rather than nothing. Chaol was gone. And there was nothing he could do.

 

That winter turned to spring, as could be expected, but that did not cheer Dorian up at all. He couldn’t enjoy the snow melting without Chaol, or the first signs of green leaves, or even the grass returning. Dorian hardly noticed the rain dumping from the skies, but it gave him an excuse to stay inside in the library nine days out of ten, and the rising temperatures did nothing for him. Chaol visited only once that season, and only for a few days. Dorian was miserable.

 

Spring, of course, turned to summer, which would have excited Dorian, except for the fact he had no one to celebrate with. The rain stopped, flowers burst from the gentle buds on branches, and grass could be seen turning yellow with heat, but none of this made Dorian happy, since it meant that nine days out of ten there was warm weather and he was expected to go outside. But Chaol didn’t visit—not even once—nor did he write, so Dorian felt like there was no real point. His father had been telling him to find new friends, but he really didn’t want to. And he was sure that even if he tried, he would not succeed.

 

Summer turned to fall, as could be expected. The rain resumed, flowers wilted from their tarnished branches, and grass could be seen sagging and drooping, which only made Dorian happy because he had a reason to be inside all the time. The air was full of mist and gray nine days out of ten, and the temperatures began to drop to a chilling cold. Dorian immersed himself in his studies and began to go willingly to court meetings. Chaol didn’t visit. He wrote once, and he seemed to be faring far better than Dorian.

 

Fall turned to winter, as could be expected. Snow began to fall, branches became barren, showing no signs of life whatsoever, and the grass could no longer be seen once more. The sky was gray and white and cold nine days out of ten, and the temperature remained at an annoying temperature of freeze-your-ass-off degrees Celsius. Chaol visited three times for several weeks each, and Dorian and he bonded over obnoxious fathers and increasingly difficult studies and old tutors.

 

Yes, fourteen-year-old Chaol was not having fun without Dorian, but he wasn’t miserable either. Eleven-year-old Dorian was starting to improve, but he still seemed numb. He wasn’t enjoying life much anymore. His best friend was gone, and moving on in life without him. Perhaps he should, too.

  
  


Both the king and Lord Westfall noticed this behavior, of course, but neither quite knew what to do about it. They had, several years prior, agreed that they should let their sons be together for the time being, but fearing that might lead to problems. Now it was the opposite that was true.

 

On one of their visits in late winter, the Lord of Anielle and the King of Adarlan discussed such matters.

 

“Lord Westfall, I understand that they’re both upset, but they’ll have to learn to live without each other. They must! This sort of thing would not be healthy once my son is king and your son has claimed your title. You must understand that!”

 

“Of course I do, Your Majesty,” the lord murmured. Then, speaking up, he continued with, “But I do think they should be able to see each other more often. Chaol has spoken of how upset Prince Dorian seems, and I have a feeling he’s probably leaving out the worst. Can you not see this?” Lord Westfall looked mildly agitated.

 

“I do see this, but as I said: They cannot continue like this! They will see each other only when you are needed at the palace or are otherwise already visiting Rifthold. I do not need Dorian getting more attached to your boy.”

 

“Yes, Your Majesty,” Lord Westfall said, defeated. He could not continue to argue with his king, or there would be consequences. He marched from the throne room feeling more upset than ever.

**A/N: Sorry. This is the second chapter in a row that’s come out a day late. I really do apologize. I’m going to try hard to keep that from happening again.**


	11. Damn Kids

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Wow. One-fifth of the way there already! Just 44 more chapters to go. Enjoy.
> 
> Warning: *spoiler alert* Bullies beat up Chaol.

 

 

Okay, so maybe Chaol had lied about his well being in the letters. Just a little.

 

He was being teased by the other boys who had almost become his friends. Back when he’d first started living there again, they’d seemed nice. Kind. They’d all been twelve at that point, and before long they were all in their early teens.

 

And now it seemed weird that Chaol’s best friend was a) not one of them and b) not yet a teen.

 

He missed Dorian more than he’d ever let show.

 

Each day, he woke up, screwed on a face of courage, and tried to wipe Dorian from his mind. He’d usually make it through most of the day like that, distracting himself with little tasks, helping the servants (his father didn’t approve), sparring practice, and horseback riding.

 

Then he’d reach the night, and he’d think about Dorian as he tried to fall asleep because he no longer had anything to keep him from doing so.

 

And then when he woke up in the morning again, he’d do once again what he always did. And each day, it got just a little bit easier, but not by a lot.

 

It was awful.

  
  


He was sitting outside one afternoon at precisely 3:24 p.m., contemplating whether or not to go for a ride or put in some extra hours on swordplay when they approached him.

 

“Hey!” Derek called. “Mr. Wants To Be King!” It was 3:25 by that point.

 

Oh yeah, and they also thought that he was grappling at power, trying to be friends with the prince.

 

“Let’s be nice, guys!” Lucian scolded sarcastically. “We should let the Mrs. mourn the loss of his prince!” The other boys all giggled. 3:26.

 

“Shut up,” he groaned. “You’re just upset because you’re not smart enough—or good enough—to get a real friend of your own. It’s quite sad really. You run around making others feel bad when really all you want is to make yourself feel better. The sooner you realize that bullying won’t get you shits any closer to being liked, the better. If you don’t, I think one of these days someone’s gonna have enough and you’ll find yourselves face down in a pile of crap, dead.”

 

“Ooh! Tough words for such a scrawny little boy!” Derek said, looking back at his comrades. “Care to see how true they are?” He seemed to have missed the point that it wasn’t necessarily Chaol who would put them in the ground, but that didn’t entirely matter to any of the idiots.

 

Or to Chaol, for that matter. All he cared about in that moment was the fact that six boys, all beefier and taller than he, were about to trample him. It was already 3:28 by the time he took of running.

 

He bolted for the trees as quickly as he could, hoping his smaller body would be enough to outrun the hulking beasts behind him.

 

Unfortunately, luck was not with him that day, and neither was Time, for he ran out of both before he reached the forest in the distance, being tackled and pinned to the ground and beaten. He fell at 3:33.

  
  


When Chaol stumbled back into the mansion, it was roughly 4:07.

 

Lady Westfall dashed over to her son as soon as she laid eyes on his bloodied and beaten form, cooing and yelling. He was dripping blood all over and had a light-sensitive headache. He wasn’t quite sure how long he’d been out.

 

It was 4:09 by the time the nurse arrived on the scene, and 4:10 before she even started to get out her equipment.

 

At 4:38, Chaol was done being patched up and was sent to his room to go to sleep early at 4:45. He knew his father would want to talk about what had happened in the morning, and he really wasn’t looking forward to it.

 

He lay wide awake in his bed until 6:57, when he got up, craving food, his stomach growling.

 

He’d spent the last two hours and thirteen minutes thinking about Dorian and the boys. What if they were right? What if he shouldn’t be friends with Dorian? He was so much younger than Chaol, and he  _ was _ the prince. He shouldn’t be so attached to someone who would have to put personal connections aside to focus on his country.

 

At 6:59, he had arrived downstairs to see his father and mother dining alone. “Mother. Father,” he said by way of greeting them. “I was wondering if I could have dinner.”

 

He braced himself for the imminent scolding from his father. He presumed it would either be about his sparring skills or his attachment to Dorian. He had given his mother a brief rundown of what had happened, and he assumed she’d told his father, which meant he’d be focused on the whole Dorian thing more than he usually was.

 

“Of course, Son,” Lord Westfall said. “I was hoping to talk to you anyways,” he smiled.

 

Chaol wasn’t sure if that was a good thing or a bad thing, but he sat down anyway at 7:00 exactly. “What did you want to talk to me about?” he asked, fatigue laced throughout his voice. He knew what was coming, but he figured he might as well play it off like he didn’t. No need to be overreacting already; perhaps his father wasn’t going to end up yelling at him over the whole thing.

 

“Well, what the boys said to you, really.” Chaol let out an infinitesimal sigh. He’d been right. His father gave him a look, probably regarding the show of disinterest and disapproval of the topic.

 

Lord Westfall pursed his lips. “I know you don’t want to talk about it, Chaol, but you know we have to. Anyway, as I was saying, your mother told me what you told her, and I have to say, those kids do have some points.” Chaol glanced at his mother, who was silently consuming her food as though she wanted nothing to do with this conversation. He wished that she would back him up. But his father continued, “He is so young, and you really should not be so attached to him. Plus, he’s a bad influence. For the past two and a half years, you’ve been getting into trouble, and I think it’s because of him. Before you two were acquainted with each other, there was hardly any rebellion to be had!”

 

“I know, father, but he’s my best friend! Without him, who do I have?” Chaol was all too aware of the fact that the servants had all stopped to listen.

 

His father gave a mild grimace. “Well, you could always try making friends with some of the young lords around here. Or the children at school. Have you thought of that?”

 

“Yes, father! I have! The lords are all jerks and the kids at school hate me! Can’t I just be friends with Dorian?”

 

“You can be, Chaol. Of course you can be. I’m just wondering whether it is the most practical choice.” His father gave him a stern look, as though trying to will Chaol into agreeing with him.

 

Chaol looked down at his hands. Maybe they were right. Maybe he shouldn’t be friends with Dorian. At all.

 

**Chapter Release Date: November 25, 2017**


	12. Perhaps the End?

 

Dorian stood at the castle steps. He was so excited—Chaol and his family were coming to stay for weeks, and they were arriving today!

 

He was practically counting down the seconds until Chaol was supposed to arrive. Perhaps a little more literally than was probably healthy for an eleven-year-old boy.

 

He skipped around the courtyard, examining each individual tree as he went. The snow was melting, and it wasn’t going to be long before all of the trees were green again. Which unfortunately meant he’d be forced to go outside, but that was alright; it didn’t matter right now, because Chaol was coming!

 

“Morning!” Dorian called to the gardener, who had just gone back to his job after the long winter. The man nodded back, glad to see the young prince in better spirits than he usually was.

 

“Dorian!” A harsh voice cut through the bitter air.

 

Dorian’s head whipped around at the sound. It was his father. No point in trying to pretend like he hadn’t heard the man—they’d already made eye-contact.

 

Dorian dropped his gaze to the ground hastily, not wanting to upset his father more than he already seemed to be.

 

He slowly trudged across the ground, doing his best to drag his feet through all the snow and muck he could, stopping every few feet to “try” to wipe it off, doing a spectacular job of making each pause last as long as possible.

 

He was fairly certain that whatever his father wanted him for, it wasn’t good, judging by his tone.

 

“Hurry up!”

 

Dorian flinched. He walked a little faster, trying to muster up the courage to prepare for whatever was to come.

 

When he finally reached the stone steps on which his father was standing, the king grabbed him by the back of the shirt and began to literally drag him inside.

 

“Father!” Dorian moaned.

 

“You’ve wasted far too long out here,” his father barked. “I will not have you spend  _ yet another _ day waiting for that boy to show up. It was excusable when you were eight, nine, even ten, but you are  _ eleven _ now, and you have duties to attend to. You have no lessons today, but that is no excuse for you to be dilly dallying outside when there are tasks to be done,” the king scolded. “I’d be less opposed to it were it summer, but at the moment, it’s cold outside. Do you understand how it looks for you to spend all day outside waiting for a boy? You could be helping your mother with Hollin, or practicing swordplay, or in the library learning, or going to the court meeting that was held two hours ago!”

 

Dorian sighed. “Please?”

 

“No,” his father said, his voice stern and unyielding. “Go inside and put yourself to use. You may greet him when he arrives, but until then, you will behave yourself and attend to your duties. If I hear you’ve been misbehaving from anyone, you will be punished.”

 

Dorian grimaced. “Fine,” he groaned.

 

He marched away from his father having been hopelessly defeated. He would not get to wait for Chaol, the way he always did.

 

He shuffled his feet as he went, his guards following in silence.

 

“Sir?” one asked. “Are you alright? You seemed so happy before.”

 

Dorian shrugged. “Yeah, but I’m not anymore. It’s all I’ve been looking forward to for the last month.” He shook his head. “But you probably don’t care.”

 

“Of course we do, sir,” the same guard spoke. His name was Jeremy. “We all care about you. I’ve been on your morning detail since you were six. We’re not supposed to get attached, but I think we all have. We want you to be happy.” His forehead crinkled.

 

Dorian shook his head. “Okay,” he murmured. “I’m fine though. I’ll be fine. It’s not like he won’t arrive; I just can’t wait for him.”

 

Jeremy glanced at the other guards. “Alright then. Is there anywhere in particular that you’d like to go? The library, maybe?”

 

Dorian nodded. “Yeah… yeah, that would be good.”

 

Jeremy pursed his lips. “We’ll guard the doors. As far as we know, you’re doing informational reading.” He winked.

 

Dorian gave him a weak smile, before turning down the hallway that led to the library.

  
  


Dorian, who had been sitting in an empty row of books for the last four and a half hours, was alone with an adventure novel that Chaol had always liked, but Dorian had never bothered to read it. He had not seen his guards since he’d arrived, but he didn’t particularly care.

 

He looked around, unable to keep his attention focused on the book. He’d barely read forty pages since he’d arrived, much less than he usually would have done.

 

He glanced towards the open windows, soft afternoon light flowing in and bathing the room in a golden-orange hue that was really quite beautiful. He sighed, staring at it. His mind began to go black, everything escaping his thoughts as he kept watching it.

 

His silent trance was interrupted by Jeremy rushing over to him. “Sir?”

 

Dorian’s head jerked over. “Yeah?”

 

“Chaol’s arrived, Your Highness. Just thought you might want to know.”

 

Dorian vaulted to his feet, dropping his book, and racing out the door. He heard Jeremy give an indignant breath before following, clearly not wanting to have to sprint all the way to the entry hall.

 

Dorian dashed down hallways, tore through doors, shoved his way through crowds, and finally skidded to a halt in the entrance before a large group of people, one of whom was Chaol.

 

The two of them stared at each other for a second, as though neither quite knowing what to do.

 

It was Dorian who made the first move, walking at a normal pace towards Chaol as he tried to calm his breathing.

 

Finally, he reached his best friend after what seemed like an eternity. He threw his arms around Chaol’s neck, who just stood there stiffly for a moment.

 

Dorian pulled away slightly. “Chaol? Is something wrong?” His momentary worry cut through his sudden joy as he looked at his friend with concern.

 

Chaol hastily shook his head. “No, no. Nothing’s  _ wrong _ , per se.”

 

“Then what is it?” Dorian asked inquisitively.

 

“I just… I don’t quite know how to say this…”

 

It  _ sounded _ a bit like Chaol was trying to break up with him, except for the fact they weren’t dating.

 

“Just spit it out,” Dorian said, looking worried.

 

“I dun’wanna be friends wi’you,” Chaol said, his words slurred and spoken a bit too quickly.

 

That single sentence made Dorian feel like an entire building had been dropped on him.

 

His world was ending.

 

It was one thing for Chaol to be a little bit further away from him than he always had been, but this was different. Now they weren’t even friends?

 

This wasn’t happening….  _ It’s not real. This is just a dream, _ Dorian thought.

 

_ Why can’t I breathe? _ He wondered. His lungs wouldn’t work right.

 

There! Finally! He got a breath in.

 

_ It’s just a dream. This isn’t real. I’ll wake up any second now, _ he told himself.

 

“ _ What? _ ” Dorian finally managed to choke out after several minutes of silence.

 

“I don’t want to be your friend anymore,” Chaol repeated, slower this time, clearer.

 

He almost looked like he felt bad about what he was saying, his lips pursed, his eyebrows furrowed, concern written across his face, but in that moment Dorian didn’t care.

 

He turned around and walked slowly away, feeling strangely cold. His whole body felt stiff, and like it wouldn’t work properly. He didn’t feel like talking to Chaol about this…. No, he didn’t want to talk to Chaol.

 

“Dorian… I’m—”

 

“You’re what?” Dorian cut Chaol off. “Sorry?” he asked, turning around. “Because if you were, you wouldn’t have said that.”

 

“But I  _ am _ , Dorian, I really—”

 

“ _ No _ ,” Dorian whispered. “I don’t want to hear it.”

 

The look on his face was enough to kill, and the sound in his voice honestly scared Chaol.

 

Dorian then turned right back around and kept walking.

 

He had to get out there…. He couldn’t stay… couldn’t see Chaol standing there so happy…. Everything was wrong….

 

_ One foot in front of the other. Just keep on moving. _

 

He made it all the way up to his tower without really registering much.

 

His guards said nothing to him, seeming to understand he didn’t want to be talked to.

 

_ Not real. Not real. Not real. _

 

He slowly lay down in his bed, feeling the way the mattress sunk under his weight.

 

Yes… everything would be better tomorrow….

 

He’d lost his best friend.

 

_ Not real _ .

 

His only friend.

 

_ Not real _ .

 

The only thing in this world he cared for.

 

_ Not real _ .

 

He closed his eyes the moment his head hit the pillow, and was out like a light.

 

He slept hard that night, and didn’t dream at all.

  
  


When he finally woke the following morning, he at first was gleeful—after all, Chaol was visiting!

 

But that thought of Chaol brought back everything.

 

_ Maybe he didn’t mean it, _ Dorian thought.  _ Maybe I misinterpreted it. He said it, but it was something else he meant. It was just a big misunderstanding. _

 

Try as he might, though, Dorian could not come up with another meaning for “I don’t want to be your friend,” other than the obvious one, nor could he decipher what Chaol could possibly have meant by saying it other than what it had sounded like.

 

He got up at 6:30, unable to fall back asleep.

 

He raced down stairs, hoping to get to speak to Chaol about the whole thing. If they could talk things through, maybe their friendship wouldn’t have to end.

 

This was the first time he’d gone to a court breakfast since Chaol had moved away, Dorian suddenly realized as he stepped into the mess hall.

 

With a sudden twang of sadness, he remembered all those mornings with Chaol, eating, and laughing, and complaining about having to get up so early just for a decent meal. Then afterwards, running around the room and annoying everyone who wasn’t finished eating their breakfast.

 

After that, they’d always get a stern talking to from their parents about causing mayhem, and they’d nod along and pretend to listen, inserting the occasional, “Oh yes, it won’t happen again, we swear!”

 

He gave a heavy sigh as he walked towards the table he’d always sat at before, plopping down in one of the seats and heaping his plate full of food and tucking in. Most people there were already eating.

 

A few minutes passed, during which time Dorian spent stuffing his face full of food and not saying a word.

 

Then, the doors swung open again. Dorian’s head swung up from the table, and sure enough, it was Chaol.

 

Chaol, however, did not seem to take any notice of Dorian. In fact, he was looking everywhere  _ but  _ Dorian.

 

He sat down at a table with his father, mother, and brother, making no move as to indicate any inclination towards joining Dorian.

 

Dorian decided it would be best not to interrupt immediately, so he remained seated for a few more minutes. He attempted to finish horking down the rest of his food, but it no longer seemed as appetizing as it had just a few seconds prior.

 

Finally, he could hold off no longer. He shot to his feet and walked towards the Westfalls.

 

He sat himself down right in the open seat next to Chaol, and turned to the young boy. “Chaol,” he said by manner of greeting.

 

Chaol straightened his back a little, putting his knife and fork elegantly down on the side of his plate before turning to face Dorian.

 

“What are you doing here?” the young lord asked in a very matter-of-fact way.

 

“I wanted to talk to you, of course,” Dorian responded, a little hurt. “You know… about what you said.”

 

Chaol groaned a little. “Just leave me alone, alright? I’ve outgrown you! Accept it already,” he snarled.

 

That stung quite a bit.

 

Dorian, doing his best not to start crying, got up and hurried out of the dining hall a brisk pace, trying to get out of there before he heard anything else Chaol had to say about him. He knew it would only make him feel worse.

 

He reached the doors and darted out, moving around the corner and out of sight as soon as possible. His guards weren’t with him—in the breakfast hall, they only had need for the grounds guards. He’d told them to come back for him in an hour.

 

It had only been 25 minutes.

 

In that moment, however, he was very grateful they weren’t there to see him break down the way he did.

 

He darted around corners, getting as far away as he could, his eyes welling up.

 

When he finally reached a more isolated section of the palace, he slid down one of the walls, tears in his eyes, glancing up and down the corridor as he did so, glad to see that no one else was there.

 

A steady stream of water began to flow from his eyes as his entire body shook. Sobs wracked through his entire, slender form, his heart breaking.

 

He’d lost his best friend. Chaol was truly gone.

 

He’d been gone before, thousands of kilometers away, but this was so, so different. Now, he was  _ gone _ .

 

He stayed like that for a while—sitting there, leaning against the wall, his legs tucked up against to his chest as he sobbed, his eye sockets pressed into his knees, his breath coming in ragged, uneven breaths.

 

Dorian wasn’t sure how long he was there. It was only when his guards showed up that he even realized much time had passed at all.

 

One of the younger guards, Jeydon, knelt down next to the boy. He wrapped his arms around Dorian, and rocked the boy until he finally stopped crying.

 

Sniffing, Dorian pulled away, wiping his nose on his sleeve, not caring what anyone thought of the action.

 

“What happened?” Jeydon asked. He looked so much more worried than the rest of the guards, not as hardened by time. He couldn’t have been more than eighteen. “We’ve been looking for you everywhere,” he added as a side note.

 

Dorian shrugged. “He really means it,” he whispered, not bothering to address Jeydon’s second comment. “He means what he said. About not wanting to be friends.”

 

He assumed that news had reached the morning shift from his evening detail about what had transpired last night.

 

Jeydon nodded slightly. “Is there anything we can do, mate?”

 

Dorian shook his head, standing shakily, and beginning to head to the library, before realizing Chaol might be there. In the end, he decided to go outside for once.

  
  


The next few days were spent in a hazy reality that didn’t seem quite right.

 

Dorian wasn’t sure why it was, but rather than feeling hurt and upset, he just felt numb. Like nothing mattered anymore.

 

Even before, even in his darkest moments, he’d still cared at least a little about something. But now that something was gone. It had been ripped from his feeble grasp so carelessly.

 

He came to the conclusion that he hated Chaol. He hated Chaol for what he’d done. He’d left Dorian. Chaol had to have known how upset Dorian had been since he’d left, and he’d left him.

 

After the numb feeling passed, he was consumed with hatred and rage. Towards Chaol, for doing this. Towards himself, for not trying harder. Towards the king, for not trying to help. Towards his brother, for stealing his mother away. Towards everything and anything in his life because it all had to have played some part in what had happened.

 

He spent most of his days locked in his room, drawing, writing, and reading away from prying eyes. That way, he knew that Chaol couldn’t come see him—his guards had orders to turn away all of the Westfalls unless the circumstance was dire. And he didn’t regret it at all, cutting the Westfalls from his life, but the months during which they were gone made him wonder if he shouldn’t have.

 

But regardless, he didn’t repeal his orders.

 

That is, until a day in early May when Chaol was back in the palace once again.

 

The traitor had visited only once since what had simply become known as “The Incident” in Dorian’s mind, this being his second.

 

That particular day, Dorian was sitting in his room, contemplating what to do about his life.

 

He had barely experienced joy in months, and when he did, it was short lived.

 

He hated everything he did, and he didn’t feel like he had anything left to live for; his life was already predetermined for him, and it seemed pretty bleak. The rest of his days were going to be exactly like they were at that moment—boring, useless, pointless, and miserable.

 

He couldn’t talk to anyone about those feelings, though.

 

His father would tell him what he always did with anything like this—that he needed to grow up and be a man, deal with it himself.

 

His mother wouldn’t be any help; she had her hands full with Hollin and wouldn’t be able to do anything for him.

 

And of course, he couldn’t trust any of his guards with it—he didn’t really  _ know _ any of them.

 

In situations like this, he’d usually turn to Chaol. But Chaol wasn’t there for him the way he used to be.

 

He wasn’t there  _ at all _ .

 

He was immersed in these depressing thoughts when suddenly, the door was flung wide open. Chaol was standing there, decked out in riding gear and carrying a sack with him. He’d just gotten in, by the looks of it. He hadn’t even put his things away yet.

 

Dorian’s guards were all standing behind him, panting.

 

“I’m sorry, Your Highness,” Jeydon weezed. “He’s so fast…”

 

Dorian glowered. “Not your fault. What about the guards who were supposed to be right outside my door, rather than downstairs at the tower entrance?”

 

Jeremy shifted uncomfortably. “They… er… wanted a break. I didn’t think anything would happen!” Jeremy said. “And besides, they’d never done anything wrong before, so I figured it would be fine!”

 

Dorian sighed, standing there in silence for a moment or two.

 

He wasn’t sure if he should give Chaol the liberty of being heard out.

 

Finally, he turned to Chaol with a menacing glare. “And what, might I ask, are you doing here? Don’t you have unpacking to do?”

 

Chaol looked down at his feet. “I just… I…” He broke down sobbing right there in the doorway.

 

Dorian’s guards looked at a loss as to what to do.

 

Dorian waved a hand at them, dismissing them. “Leave us,” he murmured.

 

They nodded, and scurried out, closing the door behind them.

 

Dorian walked over to Chaol. “What’s wrong?” he asked, whisking the 14-year-old boy’s hair from his eyes.

 

Everything that had happened over the last few months seemed to have been suddenly forgotten by the prince, and all he cared about was his best friend’s well being.

 

“Oh… shh,” Dorian said softly as Chaol’s crying picked up pace. He wrapped his arms around Chaol, hugging him tightly. “Shh.”

 

They stood like that for what could have been minutes, but also could have been hours.

 

After a bit, Chaol’s crying stopped. “I’m sorry,” he got out. “I’m so sorry for everything, Dorian. I was wrong. I was so, so wrong.”

 

Dorian couldn’t do anything but nod. He wasn’t sure what to say, so all he said was, “Why?”

 

Chaol shook his head. “I don’t know. I was stupid. Back in Anielle, there are some boys who were… not being great to me.” He gave a little sniff. “And it was mostly because I was friends with you. And my father said I shouldn’t be, he seemed so annoyed with us being friends, so I thought maybe things would be better for everyone if I stopped hanging out with you. My father would like me more, the boys would stop teasing me, and maybe we’d both be able to move on. I thought if I gave it time…. But I was wrong.” He looked like he might start crying again.

 

Dorian sighed, wrapping his arms around Chaol. “It’s alright,” he whispered.

 

He wasn’t sure why he was forgiving Chaol so easily, but that answer would be determined in time.

 

Because even if it wasn’t apparent then, he wanted to be more than friends with Chaol.

 

The two boys stood there forever in silence.

 

Healing.

 

**Chapter Release Date: December 2, 2017**


	13. An Idea In Place

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Sorry it's been so long, y'all! Here's chapter thirteen.

 

Chaol sat on a bench, watching the guards practice.

 

He did that whenever he was feeling nervous or anxious about anything. He’d just come here and watch them work themselves until they could go no further.

 

It relaxed him somehow. He wasn’t entirely sure why, but it did.

 

Right now, his reason for being there was that he was concerned about Dorian.

 

The boy hadn’t been doing too well since they’d stopped being friends, and even now that they were again, Dorian seemed a little more distant than usual. He never wanted to talk about it, always said he was fine, but Chaol knew that wasn’t true.

 

He wasn’t sure what to do about it, though. They’d been friends for what felt like forever, and Dorian had never so deliberately lied to him before.

 

Of course, there had been the little things—white lies, and a few instances where Dorian felt like the truth would upset Chaol more than a lie—but he’d never held his stance so firmly, never put his foot down and so clearly told a lie to Chaol.

 

And on top of that, the kid had an iron will. If he didn’t want help, he wouldn’t take it.

 

Chaol just hoped his love of Dorian would be enough to save the prince, though he was doubtful that sort of cheesy sentiment would do much.

 

His thoughts continued to darken as he watched the guards twist and turn around each other, locked in a deadly dance.

 

It was really quite beautiful, he thought—the way they moved.

 

He sort of wanted to be like them. He’d been excelling in his self-defense classes lately, and he really enjoyed them, too. He liked feeling like he could make a difference, and those classes were one of the things that made him feel like that. As though just maybe, if he could do enough in there, he might be able to do something out…  _ there _ .

 

But he never would, he realized. Because he was just a lord. He was not destined to be a guard, to help people the way he wanted.

 

No, at best he’d end up a stuck-up old man, alone and sad, a foothold for the king.

 

He didn’t like that idea.

 

It sort of scared him, to be honest.

 

He didn’t want any of those things. He just wanted to be normal. Maybe a little talented at fighting, but definitely not a lord. He needed some help with this—both Dorian, and his occupational dilemma.

  
  


Dorian and Chaol were nestled in a little nook far from the prying eyes of the other castle residents, reading.

 

It was a little hole in the wall behind a tapestry. There was barely enough room for the two of them anymore; when they were younger they’d fit better. Now they were crammed in there next to each other, everything touching as they read by the light of a candle haphazardously placed in a tiny hole in the wall.

 

Chaol looked up from his book, suddenly reminded of his earlier musings.

  
“Hey Dorian? Can I ask you something?”

 

“Anything,” Dorian responded.

 

“Well, I was thinking… I don’t really want to be a lord anymore.” He’d decided to start with this. It would be much easier to follow with the “needing help” speech rather than to lead with it.

 

“That’s sort of how most of us young royalty feel,” Dorian said matter a factly. “But what else is there for you to do? This is what you’re supposed to be!”

 

Chaol shrugged. “I can’t help but feel like it’s not. I mean, I’d really like to be a guard.” He smiled sheepishly. “I want to make a difference. Be more normal.”

 

“And you can make a difference! But not like that. It’s so dangerous, Chaol,” Dorian said, a worried look on his face. “Besides, how would you even go about becoming one? Your father would never agree, and then there’s the other little fact that you’re a  _ lord _ . And there’s no way you’re ever going to be ordinary, Chaol. You’re too amazing for that.” He smiled a little.

 

“Yeah, I know,” Chaol groaned as he looked away from Dorian. “I can’t make a difference as a lord though. I’m not gonna help people. You have to realize that—all our kind ever seems to do is hurt people. Sure, we’re there to uphold the law, but we don’t really appear to be any good at that.”

 

Dorian nodded slightly. “I guess I sort of agree with that. This country would be better served if it were a democracy. Unfortunately, it is no such thing, just as you are not a guard, nor will you ever be. It’s a crazy thought, and should be dismissed now. You can’t waste time on hopes and dreams that can never be.” He turned back to his book.

 

Chaol was a little upset by that, and surprised by how much Dorian sounded like his father.

 

He just seemed so… void of  _ dreams _ and inspiration. Like he no longer believed them to be able to come true.

 

“We can’t escape our fates, Chaol,” Dorian whispered. “You know yours, just as I know mine.”

 

Chaol frowned at that. He did know his fate, except now he wasn’t so sure.

 

Was it really determined by what was expected of him? Or was it by what he wanted his fate to be?

 

He grimaced, and turned back to his book, deciding not to push the subject further, also realizing that now might not be the best time to try and get Dorian to open up—he’d just gotten that vacant look on his face that indicated he was in a land far, far away, and it was most likely not a pleasant one.

  
  


Chaol spent every waking moment thinking about all of this. He wanted so badly to be a royal guard. This wasn’t the first time it had crossed his mind, either.

 

He’d been thinking about it since he was seven. He’d just never considered it so seriously until now.

 

It was his dream to be a royal guard, be able to defend people. Maybe he could be a city guard. That sounded good, too.

 

Whatever he did, he didn’t want it to be something stuck in a slimy mansion all day doing paperwork and giving orders. Even if he had to abdicate his title to do so.

 

_ No _ , he thought,  _ Let’s not go there yet. It hasn’t gotten that bad. Maybe I should talk to my father, see what he thinks. _

 

This, of course, was not his brightest idea, as his father would surely say something similar to what Dorian had said. Regardless, he marched on.

 

He headed into his father’s office, knocking lightly on the door as he entered. It was the same office his father had always used in Rifthold, and it wasn’t currently being occupied by anyone else, so he’d taken it over once more, or at least for the next week.

 

“Chaol!” Lord Westfall said, looking up from his desk. “What are you doing here at such an hour?”

 

Chaol glanced outside. He hadn’t even realized it was that late. He shrugged. “I was up, and I wanted to ask your opinion on something,” he said.

 

Lord Westfall nodded. “Yes, anything. Sit down,” he beckoned.

 

Chaol frowned. His father was in an unusually good mood. He wasn’t sure what that meant.

 

“Well, I was wondering what you’d think of me maybe training with the royal guards for a little bit.”

 

His father nodded a little. “That could be good! You’ve been doing so well in your self-defense lessons. I don’t see why not.”

 

Chaol nodded along eagerly. “Well, see, I was thinking maybe I could train with them to maybe someday  _ be _ one of them.”

 

It seemed to take a moment for this to register in his father’s brain.

 

Lord Westfall furrowed his brow. “Well, Chaol, you can’t be a guard. You’d be at risk. Besides, when would you find time to do all your lordly duties?”

 

Chaol pursed his lips. “With all due respect, Father, I don’t entirely  _ want _ to be a lord, so I was thinking I might… ah… drop that all together.”

 

His father shook his head. “Absolutely not! Get these foolish thoughts from your head! I’ve changed my mind—I don’t want you training with them at all! You shouldn’t have these ideas. You will be what you were born to be, nothing less and nothing more. You hear me?”

 

Chaol looked away. “Yes,” he muttered. “Goodnight.”

 

He got up from his seat, disappointed at how it had gone, but not totally surprised. He wasn’t sure what he was going to do now.

 

He knew that things were going to be difficult if he was really serious about this, but now that his father had told him not to, it almost solidified the idea in his brain more—he needed to be a guard.

 

This pursuing of his dream, however, drove most of his thoughts on Dorian’s mood out of his head.

 

**Chapter Release Date: December 9, 2017**


	14. Training Begins

 

Chaol sat, watching the guards train the way he often did these days. Only this time, it was for a different reason than usual. He wasn’t here just to watch. He wanted to participate.

 

He stayed on that bench for nearly twenty minutes, contemplating whether or not he should go ask, and if he did, how he might go about doing it.

 

This mental argument went on for some time as Chaol weighed his options:

 

He could go over there right now, interrupt one of the guard’s training, and ask him to help him out.

 

This, however, could be seen as rude, and the guard would probably dismiss him right away, which was less than desirable.

 

He could also choose to wait until they were all done, but at that point, they’d be tired and hungry, and more likely to be snippy with him, which could also lead to rejection.

 

Then there was choosing the  _ right _ guard:

 

An older one would tell him exactly what his father and Dorian had.

 

A middle-age one would probably be hesitant to do something outside of orders. One of them would be smart, calculating, and understand that it probably wasn’t the best choice for either Chaol or them to make.

 

That left the young ones, who would probably be more careless in their training, but they’d be the dreamers, the ones who understood what it meant to want something.

 

He sighed. There was so much to think about. He didn’t know a lot of them, except for Dorian’s guards. Perhaps he could start there.

 

Jeydon could be good—he’d be free in the afternoons, and he was young. Plus, he was often thrown to the side, his ideas dismissed because of his age, so he’d understand how trapped Chaol often felt.

 

Jamie would be another acceptable option.

 

Also from Dorian’s morning shift, she was the only woman on the entire force, and would probably be a lot less hot headed and more patient than many of the men in the royal guard. She’d had to fight tooth and nail to get in, given the rules about women joining, but after she’d beaten the captain of the guard in a fight, they’d really had no choice but to agree.

 

Jamie would understand how it felt to be ignored, the way Jeydon did.

 

Ky, from Dorian’s afternoon shift might be good, but he’d only have mornings and afternoons, which would mean less uninterrupted training time.

 

Jamie was probably his best bet, he decided. She would understand his struggles, be more patient, and give better instructions than most of the others.

 

Yes, he’d go to her first, and convince her. If she wouldn’t go for it, he’d ask Jeydon. Jeydon would probably be more likely to agree than Jamie, but Jamie would be a better trainer, which was the more important thing.

 

Then there was the timing.

 

He watched as Jamie twisted and turned around three men.

 

They were using San Miguel Eskrima sticks, and she was kicking their asses.

 

_ Whap! _

 

One of her sticks collided with someone's knee. He fell to the ground. With her foot, she rolled him out of the way as quickly as possible before pushing another man over him, where he landed in a heaping mess, is bottom sticking up in the air and his cheek pressed into the matted floor.

 

Then she turned on the final one, dodging one of his blows as she whirled through the air.

 

“Careful,” Chaol heard her say. “If your aim isn’t precise, it’ll just put you off balance.”

 

He scowled, and made another move towards her. This one came much closer to its target than his last, but she still got out of the way just in the nick of time.

 

“Move faster. If you take that long to execute a strike, you’ll be dead before you know it. Slow movement gives your opponent time to react, and that’s not something you’ll be so keen on when you’re out there fighting someone a lot angrier than I am.”

 

She didn’t even appear to be trying when she struck him in the base of his spine and whacked him in the front of the chest, knocking the wind out of him as she increased the speed at which he was falling.

 

She stood there for a moment, looking proud of herself for having beaten all three of them, but then her look of thrill and excitement died.

 

“You three need to spend more hours training,” she said. “If  _ one  _ person can hand your asses to you as thoroughly as I did in as little time, we need to change something about how you’re practicing.”

 

Groaning, one of them made to get up. “You’re not our boss,” he wheezed.

 

“No, you’re right,” she cooed. “I’m not. But he is,” she gestured to the captain of the guard, who was overseeing the current work out that they were all participating in, “and I don’t think he’s going to be too pleased with your performance today, especially if you don’t take responsibility.”

 

They all made faces, but none of them argued any further as they hoisted themselves to their feet and trudged off to go work on their lacking skills, heads hung low in shame.

 

Jamie stood there, watching them go with a thoughtful expression on her face.

 

Chaol decided to take this moment to pounce.

 

He hopped up from the bench, and walked over to her, brushing off his breeches as he went.

 

He gently tapped her on the shoulder. She jumped, whirling around and placing one of her sticks against his throat with a little more enthusiasm than was probably recommended.

 

“Oh… sorry,” she said, looking a little embarrassed.

 

He shrugged, directing her stick down to her side. “It’s fine.” He gave her a shy smile.

 

“What are you doing here?” she asked as she began to wrap her hands. “Aren’t you some lord’s son?”

 

He gave another little shrug. “Well, I like to come watch the guards train. Surely you know that by now.”

 

She nodded as she tore at the end of her hand wrappings.

 

“Yeah, I do. I meant what are you doing over here on the mat talking to me?”

 

He paused. “I was wondering if I could train  _ with  _ you.”

 

She stopped. “No.” She looked him dead in the eye as she said it. “You can’t.”

 

“Why not? You don’t even know  _ why _ I want to train with you!”

 

She sighed. “I’m guessing you’ve got some dream about becoming one of us. Newsflash—that’s never going to happen. You weren’t born a commoner; you were born a lord. You are destined to be protected, not to protect.”

 

He shifted uncomfortably. “Well… maybe.”

 

Jamie looked at him for a second. “It’s not going to happen,” she repeated.   
  


“But surely people said the same to you!” Chaol cried in desperation. “When you said you wanted to be a guard! Did they tell you it would impossible because you were a girl?”

 

She pursed her lips. “Yes, I suppose they did. But that’s different. I had no future ahead of me. I was just going to be married off to some farmer’s son, and live the rest of my days as a housewife. I wouldn’t have inherited any of the little money my family has, and even if I was going to, becoming a guard was a huge step up. Sure, there was disapproval, but in the end, it was actually a practical choice.”

 

“I know, I know, but this is really what I want. Besides—training won’t hurt, will it? Just because I can defend myself better than the average lord doesn’t mean I’m going to stop being one.”

 

Sighing, Jamie turned to him. “Fine. But if you get in trouble, I don’t want to be involved.”

 

“Thank you!” Chaol yelped as soon as the “fine” had left her lips.

 

“On second thought—”

 

“No,” Chaol quickly said. “I’ll be good! I’ll do what you say, I won’t make a big deal out of things, I’ll be nice, and I won’t tell anyone. I swear!”

 

“Okay, okay. Meet me here every Wednesday and Friday you’re in Rifthold, and I’ll help you out. I’ll give you things to do when you’re not here, too.”

 

He nodded quickly.

 

And so began his training.

 

He met her every day single day that he could and she was up for, and before long, a few of the other guards had joined in helping.

 

And true to his word, he kept it a complete secret. He mentioned it to no one, not even Dorian.

 

Chaol began to excel very quickly, even with his limited time with Jamie and the other guards. He practiced as much as he could with and without them, and Jamie was shocked when he soon matched many of the guards in his skill level.

  
  


One day in early June, Brullo walked in on Jamie and Chaol sparring.

 

“What is this?” he demanded. “Why are you sparring with a young lord?”

 

Jamie stopped immediately.

 

Chaol, his hand still flying through the air, was able to do no such thing.

 

Jamie’s arm flicked up, her hand grasping Chaol’s wrist and holding him still until he relaxed.

 

“It’s my fault,” Chaol finally said. “I made her do it.”

 

“I don’t believe that for one second,” Brullo glared. “She is 21 years old and can beat most everyone here in a fight. She’s probably smarter than all of the guards in this room combined. There is no way that she was duped into doing anything by a 15-year-old boy such as yourself.”

 

Jamie sighed. “I’m sorry, Brullo! He reminded me so much of myself… I couldn’t say no!”

 

Brullo cocked his head. “Do you have permission from anyone to train him?”

 

She shook her head guiltily. “I don’t, sir, but it felt like the right thing to do, Besides, training him can’t hurt, can it? Whatever happens, he’ll be better equipped in an attack against him!”

 

Brullo shifted back and forth. “Fine. I guess… I guess you’re sort of right. But if he’s being trained, he better be being trained right. I will help out with his lessons on one condition: If his father finds out, I will not be held accountable for anything.”

 

Chaol nodded. “Yes, sir. As far as my father knows, both of you were told he was fine with the lessons.”

 

After that, Brullo became one of the regular trainers of Chaol, and he did a better job of explaining things than most of the guards ever had.

  
  


The months passed, Chaol and Dorian became more separated than they’d been in the recent past, and Chaol wasn’t quite sure why, but he was distracted from that by all the training he was doing.

 

Even when he was in Silver Lake, he trained up to two hours a day. He’d do more if he could, but his father wouldn’t allow it.

 

“You need to be putting more hours into your lordly duties, Chaol,” his father said on one evening in which Chaol had attempted to train for five hours straight. “This is an impractical way to spend your time.”

 

He was doing very well in his lessons, which was a little worrisome for the guards.

 

A lord was better than almost all of them. And he could never be part of their team.

 

**Chapter Release Date: December 16, 2017**


	15. A Confession is Made

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: This is the third chapter I've posted today... Are you proud of me?

 

Dorian lay wide awake in his bed, just past midnight.

 

He’d been reading for a little bit, and he’d only put the book down when he realized he was jumping whenever he saw his own shadow, and realized it would be best not to give himself nightmares.

 

Now, he wasn’t able get to sleep for the same reason—too much  _ unknown _ in that book, and suddenly too much unknown in his own life.

 

He tried to distract himself with other thoughts. Happier ones that didn’t involve dripping water, falling against decaying flesh, blood pooling, an ax being raised—

 

_ That’s enough of that, _ Dorian thought.

 

What to distract himself with?

 

Perhaps Chaol.

 

He realized belatedly that might not be the best thing to think about. His friend had been so distant lately, and he couldn’t figure out why.

 

He thought it might have something to do with the whole guard thing…. Chaol had seemed so upset those months ago when he first brought it up and Dorian had turned the idea down. After that day was around when he’d started acting odd.

 

Dorian frowned, trying to come up with other things that it could be. He didn’t like the idea that it could be his fault.

 

There was always those boys back in Silver Lake that Chaol often complained about…. It could quite possibly be them, too, rather than him.

 

Or maybe Chaol’s father. The man wasn’t exactly stellar when it came to being a parent.

 

He sighed. He’d talk to Chaol about in the morning. He wanted the boy to be alright, and the best way of ensuring that was seeing what he could do to help.

 

He missed having his best friend.

  
  


At breakfast, Dorian plopped down in his seat beside Chaol. His stomach was growling and there were dark bags under his eyes.

 

“You’re a mess,” Chaol comment offhand, not bothering to soften up his words at all.

 

“So are you. You’re a wreck,” Dorian snapped back.

 

Dorian, with his button-down shirt untucked from his breeches, his hair far from being tame, and the red spot on his cheek from where his head had rested on his book for most of last night, looked almost as bad as Chaol.

 

Chaol’s hair was sticking up on all ends and his face was beet-red and covered in sweat. He looked like he’d just been out on a run and hadn’t bothered to change afterwards.

 

Chaol shrugged. “I’ve got a reason.”

 

Dorian huffed. “Well, so do I. I was up late reading, and then stopped for a bit. When I couldn’t fall asleep, I went back to reading. I woke up at 6:30  _ just because you’re here _ . So yeah, I’m tired. What’s your excuse?”

 

“Went out running,” he said, dismissing Dorian’s question easily before heaping plate full of food as he confirmed Dorian’s suspicions.

 

They ate in silence for a little while, before Dorian spoke up.

 

“Hey Chaol?” he asked.

 

“Yeah?” Chaol responded through a mouthful of food.

 

“I was just… You’ve been… I can’t help but notice…”

 

“What?” Chaol looked at Dorian, seeming intrigued by Dorian’s lack of words to use. “Just spit it out.”

 

“You seem a little off lately. And I was thinking that maybe it was my fault,” he said, staring down at his mashed potatoes.

 

Chaol frowned. “No, it’s not your fault even a little bit! I didn’t even realize I was acting differently.”

 

Dorian cocked his head to one side. Chaol seemed like he was telling the truth. “You’ve just been… more distant.”

 

“I guess that’s probably true,” he said honestly.

 

“What’s been going on then?” Dorian asked urgently.

 

“I… I don’t really want to tell you,” Chaol said, looking quite guilty.

 

“Why not?” Dorian asked, hurt.

 

“Because. You’ve already expressed your idea on the topic.”

 

“Alright, well, I’m sorry for however I reacted before.” Silence fell between the two of them, Dorian willing Chaol to say something about what it was. Finally, when it became clear that Chaol was going to do no such thing, he burst out with, “Just tell me already!”

 

Chaol rolled his eyes, but then glanced around, as though worried that someone might overhear. “Okay, but you have to promise not to tell anyone!”

 

“I promise,” Dorian said immediately.

 

“I’ve been training with some of the guards,” Chaol said quietly.

 

Dorian frowned. “I don’t see how that’s a problem.”

 

“It’s not!” Chaol groaned. “It’s just that I don’t think my father would approve. He’d think it was because I want to be one of the guards.”

 

Dorian raised an eyebrow. “And is it?”

 

Chaol shifted uncomfortably. “Well… yeah….”

 

Dorian paused. He hadn’t realized how serious Chaol was about wanting to be a guard. Chaol had a nervous expression on his face, as though dreading Dorian’s response, probably taking his silence as a bad sign.

 

“Are you any good?” Dorian asked after a long while.

 

Chaol smiled slowly. “Yeah.”

 

“Good. I’m going to help you however I can. I didn’t know that you… really wanted to do this. I kind of just figured it was a passing notion that would be gone from your head in a few short weeks.”

 

Chaol looked at the prince, seeming quite a bit surprised by his reaction.

 

“And—I mean, if you want—I’ll talk to the Captain of the Guard for you. See if he’ll give you some private lessons?”

 

Chaol’s brows rose up his forehead. “Dorian, you don’t have too—”

 

“No, but I want to!” Dorian said. “You’re my friend, and I want to help you!”

 

“Alright then,” Chaol nodded. “I’d like that. Thank you so much!” He wrapped his arms around Dorian’s shoulders.

 

The two of them stayed like that for a while.

  
  


Chaol walked into his father’s office, taking a deep breath. It was time to tell his father.

 

He couldn’t go on like this, keeping such a big secret, lying to his father on a daily basis. It wasn’t the type of thing he  _ did _ .

 

“Hello, son!” Lord Westfall said, looking up from his papers.

 

“Dad?” Chaol asked. He rarely spoke so informally around his father. “Can I talk to you about something?”

 

The two were thrown back to a time several months ago, when Chaol came in asking something similar.

 

He sighed heavily. “Right now? I’ve got a lot of work to do.”   
  


Chaol shrugged. “It’ll be quick, I promise.”

 

“Fine.”

 

“I just wanted to come clean with you. All those late nights out, those afternoons I told you I was spending in the library with Dorian? I was actually…” he paused, taking a deep breath, “… training with the guards,” he spit out the last part as quickly as he could.

 

Silence. Dead silence. Then…

 

“You’ve been  _ WHAT? _ ” his father roared. “I told you  _ months ago  _ that you shouldn’t be thinking about things like that!”

 

“No, father! It’s okay! I’m just getting better at self defense! That’s a good thing, right?”

 

“Not when you’ve had these ideas about being one of… one of  _ those _ people!” Lord Westfall shouted.

 

“But it’s not for that!” Chaol lied. “I don’t want to be a guard anymore! I just want to be better able to protect myself.”

 

“You and I both know that’s a lie, young man. We’re leaving this palace in two days, and by then I want you to have cut all ties with the guards and have had your lessons stopped!”

 

Chaol flinched. Perhaps this had not been his best idea.

 

“We’re supposed to stay for another three weeks, though!” Chaol countered his father, unwilling to accept the fact that he’d just ruined what was supposed to be almost a month of happiness with Dorian.

 

“Not anymore! I can do most of this work back at the palace; I’m sure the king will understand!”

 

Chaol stormed out of the room.

 

Well, that had gone  _ spectacularly _ well.

 

**Chapter Release Date: December 24, 2017**


	16. A Heated Conversation

 

Late the following morning, Dorian was called to the throne room.

 

He had just been leaving breakfast when a page boy dashed up to him. “Your Highness! Your Highness! His Majesty requests Your Highness in the throne room immediately!”

 

Dorian nodded slightly as dread filled his stomach. He’d talked to the Captain of the Guard last night about Chaol, and the man had said he’d think about it. Dorian was worried that word could have gotten around to the king about this encounter, and he knew that wouldn’t be a pleasant ordeal.

 

_ /Don’t think about that,/ _ Dorian encouraged himself.  _ /That’s probably not it at all. It’s gotta be that incident in the court meeting last week…. Yeah, that’s probably it. He just wants to talk it over again./ _

 

As the party walked through the hallways, Lian glanced down at Dorian. “Whatever happens, it’ll be fine in the long run,” he said. In his early thirties, he’d been one of Dorian’s guards for as long as Dorian could remember, and he knew how nervous Dorian got when he was called to the throne room by his father.

 

Dorian nodded before striding off down the hall, trying to seem as confident as he could.

 

When the doors to the throne room were flung open, he strode inside with his head held high and no expression on his face.

 

“Ah, Dorian,” the king said in a cool voice. “I’m glad you’ve shown up so quickly.”

 

Dorian bowed his head slightly. “You’re welcome, father. What is it you wished to discuss with me?”

 

His father stood, moving towards Dorian. He waved a hand at Dorian’s guards. “You may leave us.”

 

Lian glanced at the others, seeming a little unsure.

 

“Just wait outside, please,” Dorian quietly to his guards. Lian nodded towards the others and then they strode out.

 

The King of Adarlan looked down upon his son. “You had  _ no right _ to meddle in the lives of the Westfalls!” He yelled.

 

So it  _ /was/  _ the Captain of the Guard thing.

 

Dorian grimaced a little. “I’m sorry,” he responded. He knew that any back talking would land him in hotter water, so he might as well just kiss ass and try to soften the blow.

 

“Sorry won’t cut it! You knew perfectly well that Lord Westfall did not want his son involved in these things!”

 

“I didn’t! I swear!” Dorian realized he was probably going to get Chaol in trouble too.

 

“I doubt it. You can’t just do things like that, Dorian. It is awful, and you’re only encouraging Chaol’s ideas about becoming a guard. I personally don’t care what the boy does, but I can’t have his father upset with me!”

 

“Well, I care about Chaol’s feelings!” Dorian said firmly. He surprised himself by his boldness. “I want him to be happy, and if this is what does it, then that’s what I’m going to help him do. And there’s nothing you can do to stop me!”

 

“Oh, yes there is,” the king said, slowly advancing towards Dorian. “You, whether you’re my son or not, are also my subject. I am higher ranking than both you and your wretched friend. I can do whatever I want, and make you do whatever I want.”

 

Dorian was furious. “Don’t call Chaol things like that! He’s the only person in this damned world I care about, and he is most certainly not ‘wretched!’”

 

“He is whatever I say he is! And I’d suggest you stop talking right now, because I don’t like backtalk.”

 

Dorian grimaced. He knew he was getting close to an unspoken line, but he didn’t care. “I hate you,” he snarled.

 

_ /Slap!/ _

 

Dorian fell back against the floor, his head almost slamming into the tiles on the floor. Was it not for his arms which wrapped themselves around his head without his command, he probably would have split his skull wide open.

 

“Don’t say things like that to me,” his father said in a dangerously soft voice. “You are not to be friends with Chaol anymore, nor are you to say anything so disrespectful to your elders and higher ranking officials. Now  _ get out of my sight _ .”

 

Dorian, whimpering, dashed away, tears in his eyes.

 

He burst from the throne room crying.

 

“Sir? Is everything alright?” Lian asked, looking quite concerned.

 

Dorian shook his head, picking up his pace.

 

He wasn’t quite sure where he was going; it was as if his legs had a mind of their own. All he knew was that he needed some comfort.

 

Before long, he was in a wing that felt vaguely familiar. He’d been there a few times, but not many.

 

He flung open the door to Chaol’s room, barking a quick, “Stay outside,” to his guards before dashing over to Chaol’s bed, where his friend was currently laying, reading by candlelight.

 

“Dorian!” Chaol said, looking surprised. “What are you doing here at this hour?”

 

Tears leaked down his face. “I—I—”

 

“Oh, it’s alright. Whatever it is, it’ll be alright,” Chaol whispered into Dorian’s ear as he walked over to Dorian and gently held him. “You’re gonna be fine.”

 

Dorian gave a great sniff. “But I’m not!”

 

“Tell me what happened,” Chaol said quietly.

 

And Dorian did. He told Chaol everything that happened in that room, why it happened, every last detail.

 

When he was done, Chaol sighed slightly. “Not to be friends, are we?”

 

Dorian tearfully nodded.

 

“Oh, honey, don’t worry about that,” Chaol said, seeing the look Dorian was giving him. “We just have to be more careful now, is all.”

 

“Are you sure?”

 

“Positive. But, er, on the note of fathers giving rash orders, apparently I’m leaving the day after tomorrow.”

 

“What? Why?”

 

“I  _ may _ have told my father about training with the guards. And he flipped out. He’s really upset. He doesn’t want me training with them anymore. I know he’ll never allow me to be anything other than a petty lord. And I was kind of thinking… maybe I could abdicate my title. That way, he doesn’t really have any reason to not let me, and even if he doesn’t, when I’m eighteen, I can do whatever I want!”

 

Dorian raised an eyebrow at Chaol. “Chaol… that’s a dangerous idea. What if things don’t work out? You’ll have nothing to fall back on!”

 

Chaol wrinkled his forehead. “I thought you said you would support me in all of this.”

 

Dorian sighed. “I suppose you’re right. But honestly Chaol, I don’t think you should abdicate until you’re absolutely sure this is what you want. Because otherwise, you’re going to seriously screw yourself over.”

 

Chaol nodded. “Yeah, I know.”

 

They stayed silent for a moment, before Chaol remembered something. “Dorian, you did promise me that you’d tell your mother if it happened again.”

 

“If what happened again? Oh, right! Now I remember. Well, she’s so busy with Hollin…”

 

“I don’t care! She needs to know! Even if she can’t do anything about it, she deserves to know! Spanking is one thing, but slapping? Hitting? That’s different!”

 

“Alright, I will!” Dorian said, but he honestly didn’t plan on doing it. But if it eased Chaol’s conscience if he thought Dorian was going to….

 

“Thank you,” Chaol said.

 

Dorian got up. “I should probably be going now, then.”

 

Choal nodded. “Yeah. I suppose so.”

 

**Chapter Release Date: December 31, 2017**


	17. A Magical Discovery

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is sort of just a filler chapter, so it’s a little short... sorry about that. However, the last scene is kind of important. I’ll tell you more in the end author’s note so that I don’t spoil anything. =)

 

 

Chaol left.

 

The seconds afterwards felt like they were moving in slow motion. Each second felt like an eternity.

 

Dorian could stand outside, and watch it rain, and could see each raindrop hit the ground. It was actually quite beautiful.

 

A single drop could shine brighter than a thousand stars, but not brighter than Chaol, Dorian noticed.

 

When the light would hit it just right, it would make a spectacular gleam of color and light around it as it sped towards the ground, where it would shatter like glass into millions of tinier droplets.

 

And then those droplets would hurtle towards the sky once more, as small disk forming around the impact crater on the wet ground, before gravity pulled them all back to the earth.

 

And then that drop would sink into the ground, where it would remain until it either evaporated, or was stepped in and disturbed.

 

When the splash of the raindrop came up from ground, Dorian would watch it rise slowly, as though the world had no care for what would happen next, and each instant could drag on forever.

 

And as if fell, those instants lasted doubly as long, as though each one was determined to last longer than the last.

 

That whole process was amazing. But Dorian would rather have Chaol there by his side than watch that experience unfold a million times.

 

These seconds seemed to take forever, yes, but minutes were worse.

 

So many more thousands of things could happen each minute.

 

A dog could run around the castle grounds, barking and yipping, chasing a cat. The cat could run up a tree to escape, but the dog would stay at the base, barking and barking until the cat nearly died of fright.

 

A rider could saddle up their horse, take the mount from the stables, and be kicked in the stomach and left for dead in the muddy streets.

 

A civilian could die at the hands of his father, having been accused of using magic. Not that anyone could even  _ attempt  _ to do so these days.

 

The minutes lasted years.

 

Hours, on the other hand, seemed hazy, and infinite. They never ended, but they seemed to be like dreams. Dorian wasn’t sure why, but unlike the minutes and the seconds, they were clouded. After enough time had passed, he barely remembered what had happened in those quiet minutes, seconds. They just faded away into the darkness.

 

On, and on, and on they would drag. Countless tasks were carried out. Countless drops of rain could fall, countless cats could be chased up trees, countless riders could be hurt by their horses, countless innocent people could die.

 

When you took a look at the hours, things began to seem ugly, and no longer special. The seconds and minutes seemed meaningless, as the hours dragged forward so many new horrors.

 

An assassin could make their first kill.

 

A government official could be interrogated.

 

A criminal trial could be carried out, and either won or lost.

 

Everything seemed bland.

 

The days, perhaps, were the hardest.

 

They lasted so much longer than anything else that Dorian could think of.

 

They didn’t ever feel worth living through.

 

When the days were at his mercy, Dorian could spend his time thinking up all the awful things that could happen.

 

The things that happened each second, minute, and hour were repeated a hundred times over by the end of the day. And it made those things seem distasteful and rude. Like they were trying to hard to seem like a part of everything, when really they were just repetitions, happening so many times that it seemed as though Dorian was reliving the same moment in time again, and again, and again.

 

Dorian hated living during the day. Everything lasted for countless amounts of time, and he felt like it was all pointless. Useless. Repetitive. And inconsequential.

 

Chaol wasn’t there anymore to make the days interesting. Instead there was his father, making him go to his lessons.

 

Books weren’t there anymore to entertain him. Instead of heading off to the library every morning, he was forced to march like a soldier to the council room, where he was reminded all too much of the fact that Chaol was gone again. That was where they’d first met. Where they’d spent so many hours together, cracking jokes and keeping each other company.

 

Going outside was completely off the table. If he had any free time at all, he was expected to help out with the young Prince Hollin, look through paperwork, or attend royal balls and parties. It was excruciating.

 

The weeks weren’t as bad as the days.

 

Dorian found that if he focused on making it through each passing day, the weeks flew by.

 

Inside each week, there was a messy haze of ugly, torcherous tasks that could simply be overlooked by the overarching theme—life was miserable.

 

Months dragged by. Each day was a single step, taking a hundred years to happen, but the months seemed somehow a little shorter. They were boring and bland, grey and white, but somehow, tolerable.

 

And then there was the year as a whole. The end of Dorian’s twelfth year and the start of his thirteenth were some of his worst days; it was the longest he’d gone without seeing Chaol.

 

He had more responsibilities and expectations than ever, and yet he wanted so many less than he’d ever felt prepared for in the past.

  
  


When Chaol finally did visit, Dorian wasn’t jolted out of his living hell the way he usually was.

 

Instead, it felt that this time it had simply been too long. Dorian had grown accustomed to the constant sadness and numbness that became his days.

 

Of course, he was happy to see Chaol; it just didn’t make him feel the way he usually did—happy. Instead, he was simply glad for something to distract him, at least for a moment, from that dull pain pounding away at his scull.

 

For the first time in what was probably months—Dorian didn’t really care to check—he went to the library. With Chaol. The two were much quieter than usual. They did not chatter away as they had before; instead, they sat in silence and stared at their books.

 

The one time that either of them spoke was at almost noon, when Chaol remembered something.

 

“Dorian?”

 

“Yeah?” Dorian asked, looking up from his book. In truth, he really would have rather kept reading—Josh and Lavender had just started talking to each other again!—but Chaol had that look he got—the one where his eyes crinkled, his brow furrowed, and he frowned slightly—that said he was nervous about something.

 

“I… well, I’ve decided that I’m going to make this final. The guard thing.”

 

Dorian raised his eyebrows. “Chaol…” he trailed off. “I’m not so sure that’s a good idea.”

 

“Why not? Brullo, the weapons master, said himself that he thinks I’m better than the Captain of the Royal Guard was at my age! Besides, I’d rather fail here and live a life as a beggar on the streets than sit in a courtroom for the rest of my time.”

 

Dorian sighed slightly. So would he, but he also knew how many people were depending on him. And, unlike Chaol, he could not afford to let his devil of a little brother take the throne instead.

 

Dorian nodded a little. “I suppose you could be right. And, I guess, if you  _ do _ fail, in a few years I’ll take the throne, and I’ll make you my royal advisor. You won’t end up on the streets.”

 

“You don’t have to do that,” Chaol said, obviously shocked.

 

Shrugging, Dorian simply responded, “Yes, I do. You’re my best friend, and I’m afraid that you’re smarter than all the other geezers I could choose from.”

 

At this, Chaol laughed.

 

And with that, the topic was left behind, though Dorian remained with a slight sense of dread. He was worried about what would happen to Chaol, despite what he promised.

 

He decided to talk to the Captain of the Royal guard that night and see what he thought about taking Chaol in as his apprentice.

  
  


Hours later, Chaol had exited to go speak with some of Dorian’s off-duty guards, and Dorian had been left all alone in the library.

 

Everything was so unfair, he thought. Chaol and he weren’t allowed to be friends anymore, thanks to what had happened last time, so now they had to sneak around.

 

Their guards had silently agreed to not tell anyone, so they were safe with them around, but places like the library they had to be careful.

 

They’d sit in the back of the library where no one ever went.

 

They’d hide in a stable in the back of the barn where no horses were kept.

 

They’d go and play outside near dusk or dawn when no one was crazy enough to go out—except, of course, for them.

 

It was so frustrating! Why did their parents have to be like that?

 

And so few letters over the last year….

 

Dorian had talked less, perhaps, than he ever had in previous years, seeing as there was nothing to be excited about. No visits, no letters, no fun.

 

And what if Lord Westfall somehow managed to convince Chaol not to train as a guard?

 

Dorian felt hot tears threatening to burst from his eyes.

 

He might not get to see Chaol for  _ /another year/ _ .

 

And what if then, after that, he and Chaol never spoke again?

 

What about—

 

He felt a coldness around him that interrupted his frantic thoughts.

 

He glanced around himself, trying to discover the source of this uncomfortable feeling, when he saw frost coating the ground.

 

He froze. This should not be happening. It wasn’t right. Why would there be frost inside on a day like this? Sure, it was closing in on winter, but it today had been oddly warm! It was almost like—

 

_ Magic _ .

 

Dorian felt sick.

 

This was all wrong. Magic was gone. It  _ couldn’t  _ be magic. Could it?

 

And what was worse, he had the uncanny feeling that it wasn’t just coming from some random place or person.

 

No, most definitely not. On the contrary—he was almost certain it was coming from him.

 

**Chapter Release Date: January 6, 2018**

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I know that in the books Dorian doesn’t discover his magic until way later than this, but I figured that since this is a fic, I can do what I want. =) In short, I know it didn’t happen when he was 13, but most other things in this will be close to cannon.


	18. Research to Be Done

The following morning, Dorian walked down to the training room.

 

What had happened the previous evening had scared him, but he was trying to pretend as though it hadn’t happened. The less notably different he seemed, the better. It would mean fewer questions, fewer suspects. Safer overall.

 

He hadn’t told anyone.

 

It wasn’t that he hadn’t had the chance; he was just afraid of what might happen if the wrong person found out.

 

Everything else in his life could be forgiven, forgotten, but this? He could be put to death if his father discovered his little secret.

 

But right now, the prince was focused on other things.

 

Yes, if Chaol was going to become a guard, or at least start training as one, he was going to need all the help he could get.

 

So now, for the second time in a year and a half, Dorian was going to talk to the Captain of the Guard.

 

He strode into the training room as though he owned the place. Which, incidentally, he practically did. Or at least, his father did.

 

The thirteen-year-old boy marched right up to the captain, who had been getting a drink of water, and cleared his throat loudly.

 

“Sir? I wish to speak with you,” Dorian said in his most commanding voice. He figured it would go better if he seemed more like a royal young man requesting a service than a child, begging and pleading to help his only friend.

 

“Really, Your Highness? Now is not… er… the  _ best _ time. Could it wait? I have no intention of being rude or anything, it’s just that—”

 

“No, no,” Dorian shook his head. “It’ll only take a minute or two. I’m sure you can give me your attention for that long?”

 

The captain shifted slightly. “Well… I guess,” he sighed slightly, seeming a little annoyed.

 

“I’d like to discuss Lord Chaol Westfall. I asked you about him around a year ago, did I not?”

 

The man nodded.

 

“Well, you said you’d think about it, and I believe you’ve had enough time. Will you or will you not take him in as your apprentice?”

 

“Well, I haven’t seen him train in a while, sir,” the Captain of the Guard said, glancing around.

 

Dorian understood that meant he hadn’t really thought about it at all.

 

“Talk to Brullo then. The man can probably advise you well, as can many of the guards on my shift. I expect you to come to me with your verdict by later tonight, and I do hope you will take him. Even if not as your apprentice and simply a trainee.”

 

“Actually,” the captain said with a grimace, “Brullo has already spoken to  _ me _ about this matter.”

 

“Then you should have all the information you need to understand that Chaol deserves to be on your guard at some point in the near future, of course with some form of trial or training first that you oversee.”

 

The Captain of the Guard gave a curt nod. “Will that be all, Your Majesty?”

 

“Yes, that will be all,” Dorian said before striding out of the room.

 

As he exited, he took a deep breath, trying to calm himself down.

 

If Chaol wasn’t accepted by the Captain of the Guard, then that was it for Chaol. Chaol wouldn’t, most likely, return to the palace for a great amount of time ever again, meaning that there was little chance of being accepted at all.

  
  


After his discussion with the Captain of the Guard, Dorian decided to go to the library.

 

It would be easier to distract himself from his worries about Chaol there.

 

Plus, it would give him a chance to look through books on magic. If there was anywhere that would have anything about magic, it would be the palace’s library.

 

His father was lazy about clearing out the library of banned books, and besides—it gave the king a leg up on others, to have knowledge they did not.

 

Dorian wanted to learn what he could do, and the least conspicuous way of doing so would be to get the information from his own library where he spent so many of his hours.

 

He was mostly silent on the way there, contemplating what sorts of things he’d learn.

 

His father had been anti-magic for as long as he could remember, so he’d never learned much about it.

 

He did, on the other hand, know a little about the various types and how it was passed down. Really only common knowledge, though.

 

From what he’d seen the previous day, his probably had something to do with water, ice, air, or really anything of the sort.

 

For a brief moment, Dorian wondered if he had raw magic. That might be kind of cool.

 

_ No, _ Dorian thought.  _ I don’t even know if I have magic for sure yet. I’m just going to go and see what I can find out; it’s highly doubtful what happened yesterday was anything of significance at all. _

 

He was jerked out of his deep thoughts by Jeydon.

 

“So, what do you like to read?”

 

Dorian frowned slightly. “Most things,” he responded simply.

 

Jeydon nodded. “Okay. What’s your favorite book?”

 

“Why are you so interested?” Dorian shot him a look.

 

Jeydon seemed a little taken aback. “I’m sorry. I was just curious. I’ve been your guard for two years, and all I know is from what gossip I hear from the other guards and my bo—my best friend.”

 

Dorian frowned at the way Jeydon cut himself off, but didn’t ask. “Alright. Well, I suppose probably  _ Anything  _ by Lady Fois of Terrisan would have to claim the spot of my current favorite book.”

 

“Really?” Jeydon looked mildly surprised. “I never took you for the romance type. Or the kind of person willing to read anything over fifty years old.”

 

Dorian merely shrugged. “I read what I like, and I tend not to look too hard at labels before I pick up a book. I find that gives me preconceived notion about what the book will be like, and that can often cloud the way I view it. So I simply browse the shelves for a random book and start reading.”

 

“Wise words for a boy of your age,” Jeydon said, smiling.

 

“And what sorts of books do you like, Jeydon?” Dorian asked in return.

 

“Action and adventure,” responded Jamie before Jeydon could even open his mouth. “I don’t think such fanciful worlds are good for someone his age, but those are what he enjoys.”

 

Jeydon glanced over his shoulder at her. “Just because you’ve got no imagination, nor lust for another life, doesn’t mean the rest of us should be the same. And I can speak for myself, thank you very much.”

 

“Take your own advice sometime,” murmured Jamie. “And I know you can speak for yourself. In case you haven’t noticed, you  _ never shut up _ .”

 

Jeydon huffed.

 

“Don’t start again, you two!” Jeremy groaned. Then he turned to Dorian, saying, “They’ll go at it all day if you let them. They have very different ideas about the way one should approach the world. He thinks things should be more fluid, artful, and she thinks we should go about life in a more calculating and mathematical way. They have arguments having to do with philosophical and psychological ideas almost every other day, and neither can ever really disprove what the other has to say, but they’re never willing to agree with each other in any manner.” He rolled his eyes slightly, as though to say, “Kids!”

 

Dorian, pondering this slightly, had to agree more with Jeydon than with Jamie, but he supposed there was probably some merit to Jamie’s reasoning on how to live best.

 

Jeydon let out a breath. “I think that neither of us are completely set in any of those ideas. We just have different ideas of which there should be more of, should one want to lead a happy and successful life.”

 

“Perhaps equal amounts of each?” Dorian suggested.

 

Jeydon and Jamie both grunted, as though not wanting to admit that this could be the answer to their on going debate.

 

“Or perhaps we could all go about life in the way that we see fit,” Jeremy said quietly.

 

Jeydon shrugged. “Not me trying to tell people how to live their lives,” he said.

 

“When have I ever tried to tell you how to live your life?” Jamie asked, looking rather annoyed.

 

“Oh, let’s see,” Jeydon said sardonically. “I can’t actually think of any time at all!” Anger was laced throughout the sarcasm drenching his voice in a menacing tone. “Wait, never mind! Basically every damn time that who I—you know what, let’s not talk about this right now,” he said, his enthusiasm dying a bit.

 

“Jeydon, that was years ago!” Jamie groaned. “And only once or twice!”

 

“Well… there were other things too!” Jeydon said indignantly.

 

“Stop!” Dorian moaned. “Please!”

 

Jamie and Jeydon looked guiltily at their feet.

 

“So you have different opinions! Big deal! Just calm the heck down and start acting like you’re older than me, not the other way around!”

 

The other four guards surrounding Dorian looked mildly amused at the situation; even Jeremy was smiling slightly.

 

“Sorry Dorian,” Jeydon muttered.

 

“Sorry,  _ Your Highness _ ,” Jamie said, putting emphasis on the last two words, her gaze falling on Jeydon.

 

“What?” Jeydon asked. “He’s asked us to call him that!”

 

“Stop arguing,” Dorian sighed, very fed up with the nonsense. “I don’t care what you call me, as long as it isn’t insulting. I’d prefer, as Jeydon said, to be referred to by first name only, but around most company, that can’t hold. If you wish to call me by more formal titles, then by all means—go ahead. It’s what you’ve been doing my whole life.”

 

By that point, they had reached the library.

 

Dorian, not wanting to put up with his guards bullshit any longer than he had to, dashed off in the direction that he usually did.

 

When he was sure they were no longer with him, he made a detour towards the informational section, which was bordered by old myths. He knew that if he were to find anything, this was where it would be.

 

He spent the next few hours reading up on what little he could find, which wasn’t much at all. But, he decided, it was better than nothing, and he was grateful for all that he learned.

 

There were only a few tips on how to control magic—it was emotion triggered, was what most of his sources agreed upon. The only other tricks he could find didn’t make much sense, but he made a mental note of them just in case they, at some point, became less gibberish and made more sense.

 

He left the library that afternoon feeling much better than when he had entered, but still left with a large problem:

 

He, Dorian Havilliard, the Crown Prince of Adarlan, the son of the man most against magic it seemed, had some form of power that could land him in extreme trouble.

 

**Chapter Release Date: January 14, 2018**


	19. A Lesson in Abdication

Chaol was seated firmly on the bench watching the guards practice. He felt like he did that a lot these days.

 

He’d heard that Dorian had talked to the Captain of the Guard, so he was hoping to get a chance to ask the man about everything. Unfortunately, the captain was nowhere to be found.

 

Suddenly, the door burst open and the Captain of the Royal Guard strode in, an air of prestige about him.

 

Chaol leapt to his feet, dashing over to him. “Sir! Sir, I was wondering about what you’ve decided.”

 

The captain grunted. “Why do you children always ambush me when I’m about to start conditioning my guards?”

 

Chaol puffed out his chest, standing a little straighter. “I apologize, sir. Also, I’m almost an adult.”

 

“Does it matter?” the captain asked. “But, if you must know, I think I will take you as my apprentice. I’ve asked the other guards about it, along with Brullo, and they all say that you live up to the expectations of a fully fledged guard. I will, of course, want to put you through some training of my own before accepting you into our ranks, but I’ve seen you fight before, and you can handle yourself well.”

 

Chaol was at a loss for words. “Sir… I don’t know what to say.”

 

“Perhaps start with a nice ‘thank you’ and finish with ‘I’ll get the hell out of here now,’” the captain said.

 

“Right. Of course, sir. Thank you so much! You have no idea how much this means to me!”

 

“You’re right,” he responded. “I don’t, and I also don’t particularly care. I don’t recruit young men—or women—based on how much it  _ means to them _ . Instead, I go by their morals and skill. We will see, over the course of the next few weeks, whether or not you match my standards the way the other guards all say you do. Now please: I have men to work. They’re not getting stronger on their own, nor are they getting closer to being adequate guards.”

 

Chaol nodded quickly before dashing out of the training room, closing the door behind him.

 

He took a deep breath, leaning against the large plain of wood behind him.

 

He’d have to tell his father now, and he knew that.

 

This was what he had dreamed about for the last nine years of his life. This was what he wanted. Right?

 

He was starting to second guess himself.

 

Up until now, everything had seemed so clear to him. This was what he was meant to be: a guard. He was supposed to help people. He wasn’t destined to be a lord, some royal official.

 

But it wasn’t something he could walk back.

 

He’d tell his father, and his father wouldn’t let him do it and still be a lord.

 

His only way of becoming a guard, or even starting to train as one, was to abdicate his title and inheritance, disowning himself.

 

That was a big step, and he knew his father wouldn’t let him reclaim his title.

 

The whole thing would cause a lot of heat for Chaol’s father to deal with, and he knew his father wouldn’t be eager to forgive him.

 

He knew in his heart he’d become a guard if it was really what he wanted, but he also understood that should anything happen, he would not have anything to fall back on. He was only 16, and this was a dangerous move.

 

He took a slow and steady breath.

 

He could do this.

 

Tonight, he would tell his father.

  
  


Chaol sat down in his father’s office for the third and final time to discuss his future as a guard.

 

“Chaol,” his father said, smiling warmly. “What brings you here tonight? As I recall, the past two times you’ve visited my office in Rifthold it was to ask about your future,” his face darkened. “That’s not what it is this time though, is it?”

 

Chaol shifted slightly. “Actually, it is.”

 

The Lord of Aneille pursed his lips. “Chaol, my son, as I have said before: You are destined to become a lord, just as I was. You are not meant to become some petty guard.”

 

Chaol turned his head away from his father. “Sir, I’ve talked to the Captain of the Guard. I’ve trained with some of the guards. The captain is going to take me in as his apprentice. And Brullo—the Weapons Master—thinks that I possess more skill than the current captain did when he first began. I’m going to do this. No matter what you think.”

 

“Allow me to correct you one one point, my son,” Lord Westfall said, glaring towards Chaol. “It  _ does _ matter what I think. See, I’m not going to allow you to do this. I will not let you so long as you belong to my house hold.”

 

Chaol stood up. “Well, maybe I won’t be part of your household any more!” He said it a little louder than he meant just as his mother walked in.

 

“What are you boys arguing about?” Lady Westfall asked, looking annoyed.

 

“We weren’t arguing, Mother,” Chaol murmured.

 

“Really? Because it certainly sounded like it.”

 

Lord Westfall sighed. “He wishes to become a  _ guard _ .” He said the word as though it contained a deadly venom. As though it were something no one should utter. “Apparently, the Captain of the Guard has been convinced to take our son in as his apprentice.”

 

Lady Westfall shrugged. “Well, if that is what our son wants, so be it. Terrin can take his place.”

 

Lord Westfall looked shocked. “Absolutely not! Chaol will stay a part of our house and he will stay our heir!”

 

“He can stay part of our house and not have to be our heir. His happiness is what is important,” Lady Westfall responded, ever the calmest of the three.

 

“No, it’s not! The happiness of the people is what matters. The happiness of the king is what matters.”

 

“And I’m sure that the people will be perfectly happy with Terrin as the heir and Chaol merely as a member of our family with no real significance politics wise. The king, I assume, will be glad to have Chaol and Terrin both serving him in different ways. Our son should be happy. And besides—has Terrin ever displayed disinterest in becoming a lord? No, he has not. In fact, I have heard him say that he would rather take Chaol’s place than fade away into nothingness. He’s rather interested in politics.”

 

“Well… well…” his father spluttered.

 

“Listen, I’ve got everything figured out!” Chaol said. “Brullo says I can stay in the barracks for free, and Dorian’s willing to appoint me to some position on the court when he’s king if things go south, which they won’t. It’ll be fine!”   
  


Lord Westfall snarled. “It most definitely will be. But I won’t pay for any of your lessons or tutoring.”

 

Chaol paused. He hadn’t thought of that. “Well, I’ve gotten all of my lessons so far for free,” he responded.

 

“And now? Now that you’re the captain’s apprentice?”

 

“I…” Chaol shifted uncomfortably. “I don’t know.”

 

“You better think, boy! Is this what you really want to do?” he asked.

 

Chaol barely managed to nod.

 

“Then so be it,” his father whispered. “You’re no longer welcome at home. Don’t bother trying to make contact with any of us. We’re leaving tomorrow. We’ll be around, but don’t expect us to be like family, because we’re not. I’ll fill out the paperwork tonight.”

 

Chaol gasped.

 

“No!” yelped Lady Westfall. “No, don’t do that to him!” she begged her husband.

 

Lord Westfall was already out the door though.

 

She shook her head and turned towards Chaol.

 

Tears filled his eyes. He hadn’t expected that to hurt so much. He didn’t even like his father. But now….

 

Lady Westfall wrapped her arms around Chaol. “I promise I’ll write to you. Every week, if I can. And I expect you’ll be busy, so you don’t have to write that much, but I want to hear from you every month if you can manage. Maybe more. And Terrin will probably want to hear from you as well. And if you need any help paying for anything, I’ll send some money. And I’ll—”

 

“Mother,” Chaol cut her off. “It’ll be fine. I promise that I’ll write.”

 

She nodded. “And accept money when you need it?”

 

“Of course,” he agreed. “But don’t worry!” he added quickly. “I’ll get a job in town, polishing shoes or something. I’ll make a little money of my own. Everything’ll turn out fine.”

 

She gave a sniff. “Oh, my baby boy. You’ve grown into such a handsome young man. You’re going to do great things. I just know it!”

 

That was one of the last times Chaol ever saw his mother in person again.

  
  


The following morning, just as was promised, Lord Westfall packed up what was left of his family, had Chaol sign a few papers, and left.

 

It was one of the sadder moments of Chaol’s life, challenged only by the loss of Dorian back when he’d first moved away.

 

This whole ordeal was coupled with a good thing, however: Chaol had his first lesson with the Captain of the Guard.

 

And it went really well.

 

**Chapter Release Date: January 21, 2018**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize for the sexism/cisexism displayed by the captain in the first scene. It seemed necessary to have in there, though.


	20. Alone

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Hey there! This is going to be a bit of a short one, but don’t worry—there’s plenty more coming soon! It’s also a little sad, just so you know. I hope you guys enjoy it anyway, though!

 

It had been weeks since Chaol left his title and life as a lord behind.

 

Dorian was alone.

 

Dorian had assumed that, if Chaol did end up staying at the palace full time (which he had), the two of them would be close again.

 

He’d been completely wrong.

 

Chaol had thrown himself into his practice with the guards, which Dorian supposed was probably not that unusual—the boy had just lost his entire family in some sense, after all—but the two of them had hardly spent any time together  _ at all _ .

 

All Chaol had done was train in the month that had passed.

 

Actually, that wasn’t entirely true.

 

_ Apparently _ , the whole “cast aside lord, now becoming a guard instead” was a major draw to the ladies in the castle.

 

Chaol, who had never even been asked out before two months ago, now had a “serious” girlfriend. So, when he wasn’t training, he was sucking face with some blonde. Dorian found it mildly disgusting, as could be expected of a thirteen-year-old who didn’t like the thought that his best friend now had someone he preferred spending time with.

 

Dorian absolutely  _ despised _ Lithaen. She was full of herself, and Dorian got the feeling the only reason she was dating Chaol was because it made her look good with her friends.

 

Chaol, on the other hand, was very taken with the young woman, and showed no signs of wishing to part with her any time in the near future.

 

It was rather infuriating, especially since Dorian was actually making an effort to be nice to Chaol. They’d of course had hard times, and Chaol was having difficulties, but Dorian would have thought that would be the main reason for Chaol and him to be friends again.

 

Had it not been Dorian who had helped Chaol get to this place? Had it not been Dorian who had convinced his father to allow Chaol to stay in the palace, free of charge? Had it not been Dorian who stuck by Chaol throughout everything?

 

Anger filled Dorian. Why did Chaol keep doing this to him? It happened again, and again: Chaol left Dorian. Whether it was because of his parents, or those stupid boys in Silver Lake, or  _ girls _ .

 

And why did he, Dorian, keep running right on back?

 

Dorian didn’t have an answer to either of those questions. He decided that this time, he wouldn’t let Chaol weidle himself back into his life.

 

Only, he also knew that if Chaol did come back, he probably wouldn’t do much to stop him.

 

But through all of this, Dorian remained upset and lonely. So he tried to distract himself with various things. Including magic.

 

Chaol had been off spending his time training, and so had Dorian.

 

He’d spent hours in the library, all by himself, doing research. Then, late at night, he’d rise, sneak down to the gardens and do what he could with his magic. He knew that if he could control it, he’d be less likely to be in danger of having a random outburst.

 

It was odd, doing it without Chaol. Sure, he’d never intended to tell Chaol, but it just somehow felt wrong, not having Chaol by his side during all of it.

 

But anyway, he’d made little to know progress. All he’d been able to do in his countless night time excursions was freeze the entire lawn before racing inside, fearing being discovered.

 

It was anxiety inducing, doing it all alone.

 

_ All alone. _

 

Why wasn’t Chaol there anymore?

 

Dorian let out a breath, rubbing his eyes.

 

At the moment, he was trying to distract himself from Chaol by reading, but evidently, that wasn’t working well for him.

 

_ Joshua turned to Rosa. “Are you sure?” he asked, skepticism in his voice. _

 

_ “Of course!” Rosa cried. “I’ve been sure of this since the moment we met,” she said, her voice catching. She took a step closer to him. “I love you,” she whispered. _

 

_ Josh turned bright red. He hadn’t been expecting that. _

 

Dorian reread those three paragraphs over and over again, but despite how much he wanted to forget Chaol, that’s where his mind kept going. He still didn’t know what was happening on that page of the book….

 

_ Forget it _ , he grimaced to himself.  _ It’s no use. _

 

He slammed the book shut and threw it against the wall. It had been a gift from Chaol, anyway.

 

_ No more of those, _ he thought grimly. He was probably never going to be close to Chaol ever again.

 

He glanced around his room. Almost all of the drawings, the posters, the decorations, had come from Chaol. His only friend.

 

Scratch that. His only  _ ex _ -friend.

 

He paused as something quite suddenly dawned on him.

 

He had no friends anymore. He was completely, and utterly  _ alone _ .

 

His body shook with this realization as hot tears threatened to spill from his eyes. Chaol was gone. Left. And now he had no one.

 

**Chapter Release Date: January 28, 2018**

 


	21. A Happy Couple

Chaol smiled to himself as he trained, but the small smirk was quickly wiped off his face as he got hit, and remembered he should be focusing.

 

He was rarely able to even touch the 22-year-old woman who spent so much of her time training him.

 

Jamie was a miracle. He’d be half interested in dating her, except for the fact that he was with Lithaen. And besides—he had the feeling that Jamie would just tell him he was too young and naïve for her.

 

This split second of divided focus cost him the win: Jamie tripped him and held her arm against his throat.

 

“Pathetic,” she spat. “I’ve been training you for how long now?”

 

“About two years,” he mumbled, groaning as she dug her knee into his stomach.

 

“Right. And how many times have you beat me sparing?”

 

“Zero,” he said, not meeting her gaze.

 

“Up,” she commanded as she climbed off of him and getting to her feet.

 

He did as instructed, rubbing his rib cage as he did so.

 

“Keep yourself focused on what you’re doing, Westfall. The moment you stray, your opponent will take that opportunity to”—she kicked him in the hip—“kill you.”

 

He grunted as he slammed into the mat once more. “What was that for?” Chaol yelped.

 

“We’re not over till I say we’re over. Did I say the fight was done?”

 

He moaned, flopping back against the mat. This was his dream, he reminded himself. “No. Are we over now?”

 

“Yes, we’re over now. Go get a drink of water.”

 

He paused, knowing what she was going to do next.

 

She smirked. “Or not.”

 

“What are we doing after I get a drink?” he asked cautiously.

 

“Well, at least you’ve learned something. Go run.”

 

“How far?” was all he asked. He’d learned by now not to argue.

 

“Until I say to stop. I’ll run with you, if it makes you feel any better.”

 

He nodded.

 

Jamie got up from where she’d been sitting, and the two of them walked out of the main training room to the cool, crisp fields.

 

The snow had melted by now, but it was still very cold throughout the day.

 

The two began to jog in silence.

 

Neither said anything for most of it, but that was how it always was.

 

Brullo helped out with Chaol’s training, and so did the Captain of the Royal guard, but Jamie remained his main instructor, and he had to admit—he was pretty sure she was better than both of the men combined.

 

He honestly didn’t mind her training tactics. That was, until she started making him do her sadistic conditioning routines. But those were best left undiscussed.

 

The two of them ran and ran, Chaol growing tired before long.

 

He knew she spent time working out without him, and she was always better at everything. It was annoying, really. He wasn’t sure how she did it.

 

Her pace remained steady. He did his best to keep up with her, but he was starting to fall behind. His breath was coming in at an uneven pace and he felt like he might fall over at some point in the near future. Despite the fact he’d had no water directly before they started, there was a sharp pain in his side.

 

“Tired?” Jamie smirked. It was the first thing either of them had said in quite a while.

 

Chaol gritted his teeth. “No,” he said defiantly.

 

Jamie chuckled lightly.

 

As they kept running, Chaol’s mind strayed from the pain.

 

He was so much happier doing all of this, working towards everything he wanted, then being forced to be what his father had wanted.

 

He was so, so happy.

 

But something was missing.

 

_ Dorian _ , he realized.

 

But Dorian was so young, and the two just didn’t have much in common any more. It saddened Chaol, thinking about that.

 

_ Oh well. _ He glanced up at a bird that was squawking obnoxiously.  _ I’ll get over him eventually. There’s nothing left for me with him. I’m sure he understands. _

 

Unfortunately, Chaol was very wrong in his assumption.

  
  


When the two finally made their way back to the training room, Lithaen was already waiting for Chaol.

 

She gave him a small smile as her eyes flicked up and down his sweaty form.

 

“Hello,” she said, approaching them, her hips swaying back and forth. “I assume you forgot the time?”

 

Chaol glanced at the clock. It was already seven. “Oh Gods. I’m so sorry! I had no idea how late it was getting!”

 

She shook her head at him. “No worries, my dear. All is forgiven.” She leaned up and planted a fat kiss on Chaol’s lips. Chaol smiled against them.

 

He was pretty sure he heard Jamie say something along the lines of “ew,” but she was gone by the time he turned around.

 

“Why don’t you go get dressed into something a little cleaner and then we can get going?” Lithaen asked, one had on Chaol’s chest.

 

He nodded quietly.

  
  


Lithaen and Chaol had a fantastic time that night.

 

First, took a carriage into town and spent some time wandering through shops and watching the hustle and bustle of the crowds.

 

It was a very therapeutic experience. So quiet and peaceful standing with Lithaen, but at the same time loud and energetic things were going on around them as they walked down the streets, arm in arm.

 

After that, they headed down to the restaurant.

 

They’d had reservations for 7:45, and they were almost late.

 

Chaol had glanced at a clock just in the nick of time, realizing that if they didn’t get there in seven minutes, their table would be given to someone else.

 

“Come on!” Chaol had yelped to Lithaen.

 

Her gaze had followed his and, seeing what time it was, hoisted up her skirts and scampered out of the shop onto the sidewalks.

 

The two of them hadn’t made great time—Lithaen had on heels much higher than was probably smart, so she’d had to basically tip-toe the whole way—but luckily weren’t late.

 

When they’d finally arrived, Lithaen out of breath, the clock’s hand moved right as they stepped inside. Just on time!

 

Now, the pair was sitting at their table, happily enjoying their food.

 

Chaol horked his down as fast as he could without being impolite. He hadn’t eaten anything since lunch and had endured a very brutal training session.

 

Lithaen was watching him quietly as he did this, seeming thoughtful. Eventually, Chaol clued in to the fact that he was being watched and glanced up from his food.

 

“What?” he asked, covering his mouth, which was full of food.

 

She shrugged. “I don’t know. I guess I’ve never…” she paused, as though this was really something new to her. “I guess I’ve never realized how much I like you.”

 

Chaol smiled softly. “I love you,” he said without thinking. Then he stopped. He worried that he might have scared her, by the look on her face. Neither of them had ever said that to each other before.

 

Then she covered her heart with her hand. “Oh, Chaol! I love you, too!” Lithaen leaned across the table, put one hand on either side of his face, and kissed him gently.

 

Chaol decided the night had been a success.

  
  


Dorian sat in the entry hall, reading. It was getting late, and he really should have been in his room, but he just didn’t want to move.

 

Suddenly, the doors were flung open.

 

In came Chaol and Lithaen, hand in hand. Chaol’s head was thrown back, laughing at something Lithaen had said. Lithaen was giggling obnoxiously, the way she did whenever she’d said something mildly funny.

 

Dorian grumbled. He hated seeing them together.

 

He supposed that Lithaen might actually like Chaol a little bit—he was really a great guy—but what Chaol saw in her, Dorian had no idea.

 

He supposed he should have been happy for Chaol, but he wasn’t.

 

His problem wasn’t that he was jealous, no, he was actually sort of glad Chaol had someone, so why was he so upset by it?

 

He got up and walked away, slinking out unnoticed by the happy couple.

 

**Chapter Release Date: February 4, 2018**


	22. An Attempt at Making Friends

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This another short one. Hope you guys don’t mind.

Dorian sat on the steps up to the palace alone, as he had taken to doing lately when he wasn’t up for reading and wasn’t in a council meeting.

 

He was staring off into space at the moment, watching the birds search for worms in the wet ground, when suddenly he heard footsteps.

 

His head jerked up.

 

“Hello!” A cheerful voice greeted him. “You’re the Crown Prince, right?”

 

He frowned, but nodded.

 

“I’m Lisa,” she said, her eyes containing an enthusiastic gleam. “I’ve seen you in the library sometimes. Do you enjoy books?”

 

He nodded again, unsure what else to do. She seemed very eccentric.

 

“So do I,” Lisa grinned. In fact, she had a book tucked under her arm at that very moment. “Do you mind if I sit, Your Highness?”

 

“No, no, not at all,” Dorian responded, feeling rather uncomfortable. People didn’t often just start talking to him so casually. 

 

He grimaced slightly at her words— _ Your Highness _ she’d called him. He’d given up by now trying to get people to call him “Dorian” rather than any of those proper things, but he definitely still minded it.

 

She plopped down, opened her book, and started reading.

 

Dorian remained quiet for some time, watching her. She seemed odd, but in a good way. She had long, waist-length, dirty-blonde hair, paired with mud-brown eyes, which were very large. When she read, she seemed lost in a world that was entirely fiction.  _ Rather like me, I suppose. _ Dorian thought.

 

He eventually gave up trying to make sense of both her and her reasons for coming over here, and went back to staring off into space.

 

After a while, he became aware of the fact that she was now watching him.

 

Dorian swiveled his head, meeting her gaze. She blushed a little, glancing away.

 

“Sorry,” she said. “I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.”

 

“No, you didn’t!” Dorian insisted. “I don’t care.”

 

“Okay,” Lisa mumbled. She glanced hesitantly at her book, as though trying to decide whether it would be rude to go back to reading.

 

“What sorts of books do you like?” Dorian asked softly. He was quite bored, and if she was willing to talk to him, he figured he might as well take advantage of it.

 

“Oh, all sorts. Mostly fantasy and adventure.” Lisa smiled a little, her eyes now on Dorian, rather than the paper and ink piece of artwork in her lap.

 

Dorian bobbed his head up and down. “So do I,” he said, hoping to stimulate conversation.

 

Silence again. Dorian shifted a little.

 

“Are you royalty?” Dorian asked. He knew it was a dangerous topic—either she was a snobby rich girl and would start discussing wealth, or she was like him and wouldn’t want to talk about it. Or, if she wasn’t of royal blood, she might get upset at his question. However, he felt that he should probably know, seeing as his father didn’t want him around the children of anyone “sub-par” in the king’s standards, unless they were waiting on him.

 

Lisa huffed. “Does that matter?” she asked, sounding a little annoyed. Dorian praised himself silently: This was one of the reactions he’d foretold.

 

“I was simply wondering—if you’re not, we’ll have to sneak around if we keep talking—my father doesn’t like me socializing with anyone below the rank of a duke or lord or a lady.”

 

Her brows furrowed, obviously still upset. “I’m the daughter of one of the cooks.”

 

Dorian shrugged. “Okay. Can you score me extra pie?” He had a hopeful expression on his face.

 

She chuckled. “Probably not.”

 

Dorian smiled for the first time in what felt like years. “Ah, well, it was worth a shot, wasn’t it?”

 

Lisa just shook her head. “Yes, I suppose it was.”

 

The two of them grinned at each other. Seeming to have nothing else to say, Lisa went back to reading.

 

“What’s your book about?” Dorian asked, desperately wanting someone to talk to. He missed Chaol so much, and he needed to  _ speak. _

 

She looked up again. As she began to explain it, Dorian realized it sounded familiar.

 

“Oh, hey! Chaol—one of my friends—used to really like that book!” His stomach gave a pang of sadness as he thought of his friend.

 

She nodded. “Chaol… he sounds familiar. Isn’t he the one that abandoned his title and people to become a guard?”

 

“Yeah.” Dorian looked down a little.

 

She frowned a little. “I’m pretty sure I met him a long time ago. He was quite rude.”

 

Dorian cocked his head. “Really? That’s not like him. He’s usually very nice.” Dorian stopped for a second, realizing he was defending the boy that he mildly hated at that moment. “Or at least, he used to be.”

 

“You two no longer friends?”

 

“No, not really. We’ve sort of grown apart. And he got a girlfriend.”

 

“Aw, that sucks. Well, if you’re willing, I could be your girlfriend. As in a friend who’s a girl, not the other thing.”

 

“Sure,” Dorian said, a half smile plastered across his face. He was lonely enough that he was willing to jump at any opportunity to not be completely isolated all the time, even if it was with a girl he’d just met that said Chaol was mean. “How old are you, by the way?” Dorian asked.

 

“Thirteen. Same as you,” she replied.

 

Dorian didn’t respond; instead, he turned to the world, going back to observing the birds in silence.

 

She sat there too, watching the birds as he did.

 

They stayed there for a while, just sitting there, quietly trying to figure each other out.

 

It was rather peaceful. The silence had an odd calming effect on the two, and in some ways, the silence was more informative than the speaking had been.

 

They had been there for what could have been hours, or could have been mere minutes when Lisa finally left.

 

Dorian remained though, feeling as though perhaps he had at last found someone he could be happy with, someone who wasn’t Chaol.

 

He remembered the way he’d felt after meeting Chaol, and it wasn’t anything like this. There wasn’t that profound, perfectly obvious bond already in place, but it was something.

 

And at least he wasn’t alone.

 

**Chapter Release Date: February 9, 2018**


	23. Bonding Over Books

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome to chapter 23. This story is now officially longer than my first fanfic (Vampires Don’t Exist) in both words and chapters.
> 
> Warning: *spoiler alert* Dorian has mild suicidal thoughts (just about wishing he was dead), but nothing too serious.

 

Lisa and Dorian bonded quickly over books. They met most days in the library, the way that Dorian had always done in the past with Chaol. It was a little sad, but Dorian was glad to have a friend.

 

They became inseparable faster than one might have expected, but it was only natural for them both to want to spend time with each other—neither had close friends.

 

Dorian wouldn’t have called them best friends, but he had a feeling that Lisa might at the moment. She seemed more attached to him than he was to her.

 

He felt a little guilty, to be honest. He was using her, a bit, to get over losing Chaol. Sure, the duo had grown apart over the years, but it had been so difficult for Dorian when he finally realized what had happened, especially after all he’d done to help Chaol.

 

The two were so far from each other now that when Dorian hadn’t even seen Chaol when the older boy turned 17. That was a particularly low point for Dorian. The only comfort in the whole thing was that Chaol seemed to be happy, and that made Dorian happy.

 

But no matter, time went on, and so did Dorian, even if Chaol wasn’t there with him.

 

Instead, Lisa was.

 

They went almost everywhere together, mostly just because Dorian hated being alone and Lisa didn’t mind following him around when there wasn’t anyone who might tell Dorian’s father.

 

One such afternoon, the two were headed to the library, a common destination for both of them. Along the way, they stumbled upon one of the other court boys.

 

Dorian struggled to recall his first name, but had no such luck. He didn’t talk to many of them outside of court meetings, so the only thing that stuck in his mind about 95 percent of those dickheads were their last names.

 

“Hello, Your Highness,” said the boy—Gray was his last name.

 

“Hi,” Dorian said nervously.

 

“I’m glad to see you’ve got a girlfriend, Your Highness. You have appeared lonely lately.” Gray seemed to be attempting to make pleasant small talk.

 

“She’s not my—”

 

Chaol, who had been walking past, interrupted. “You’ve got a girlfriend?” Chaol asked, seeming surprised. “Well, good for you.” Then he frowned a little. “This is she?”

 

“She’s my friend, but not—”

 

Once again, Chaol cut him off. “I’m glad you’re putting yourself out there, Dorian,” Chaol said as he patted Dorian on the back, “but don’t you think you’re a little young?”

 

“We aren’t—”

 

“No, you’re right. It’s totally fine. You need someone to spend time with, and I’ve seen you two together—she seems nice.”

 

“I don’t have a girlfriend!” Dorian finally got out.

 

Chaol smirked. “Sure,” he said, winking. “I won’t tell anyone.”

 

And then he strode off, like he was so high and mighty, leaving Chaol by himself once more.

 

_ I’m not alone though,  _ he reminded himself.  _ I have Lisa. _

 

Dorian glanced around for Gray, but the boy was gone.

 

“Come on,” Lisa groaned, tugging on Dorian’s arm. “Let’s get to the library.”

 

“Do people really think we’re dating?” Dorian asked inquisitively.

 

“Does it matter?” Lisa countered, exasperated. “Look at the time, Dorian. Now we’ve only got three hours and seventeen minutes until we’re supposed to be at dinner!”

 

He grumbled, but followed her dutifully. Sometimes, he felt like she was more bossy than he was, which felt wrong somehow, seeing as he was basically being  _ raised  _ to be bossy.

  
  


Dorian let out a sigh, flopping down against his bed.

 

What a day.

 

He’d earned a lecture from his father (though at this point, he still really wasn’t sure what he’d done, seeing as he hadn’t listened to a single second of it), gone to two court meetings (which he barely recalled, seeing as he was too occupied by watching the clock to actually listen), been forced to take the shrieking Hollin to the nursery because his mother was too busy (which was more entertaining than the court meetings, but equally as excruciating), and dealt with a long argument with Lisa that was certainly less than fun (but better than everything else).

 

He rubbed his face. He hated being alive sometimes. It all felt so pointless, so useless. Some days, Dorian just wanted to die.

 

As he thought over his day, contemplated death, and wondered about his friendship with Lisa, Dorian’s brain came to rest on a single event of the day—when Chaol had thought that Dorian and Lisa were dating.

 

He wasn’t sure why it had bothered him so much; it really shouldn’t have, but for some strange reason, it did.

 

It wasn’t like Chaol had been angry with him, had it? And besides, Chaol had a girlfriend of his own, so if anything, Chaol should be glad that Dorian was no longer so isolated!

 

Dorian let out a faint groan, unable to contain his frustration that seemed to have no source.

 

Perhaps it was that this was the first time that Chaol and Dorian had spoken in weeks.

 

Yes, that was it.

 

Dorian was simply upset because his old friend had only noticed him now because Chaol thought that Dorian had a girlfriend, and it had spurred their first actual conversation in nearly six months, which was more than a little underwhelming and annoying. Sure, they’d had the occasional word here and there, but it was the only time since the previous winter that they had truly both uttered more than one complete sentence to each other in one short amount of time.

 

But that didn’t feel like the full answer.

 

No, Dorian realized. It was more that he didn’t want Chaol to know that he’d moved on. He was sort of hoping that if Chaol saw him without anyone, he’d return, either out of guilt or understanding that perhaps he’d been wrong.

 

Dorian pinched his nose. Why was his head so complicated? He was having trouble figuring out his own emotions, his own reasoning. When were things going to start making sense? Start putting themselves back together? And more importantly, when was he going to start feeling better?

 

He shook his head to himself.  _ It doesn’t matter, _ he thought.  _ I’ll figure it out someday. Besides, it’s not like anyone cares. Chaol’s made it very clear that he doesn’t care who has what friends. He doesn’t care about me at all anymore, not like he used to. It’d be better to just move on now before it becomes impossible. _

 

He decided that tomorrow, he’d make amends with Lisa, and then he’d make an attempt at be friends with the other boys in the court of his age. He would need those connections later, and besides—he didn’t know any of them, so how could he be so sure that they were really that bad? Maybe he’d be surprised!

 

Dorian sighed heavily, thinking back to when he’d first met Chaol. It had been in a court meeting, and several of those boys he now went with had been there. None of them seemed as interesting, as kind, or as smart as Chaol was, though.

 

_ I’ll just give it a shot, _ he decided.  _ If I don’t like them, it’s back to being antisocial for me. _

 

**Chapter Release Date: February 17, 2018**


	24. A Bond With a Questionable Crowd

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! Here’s chapter 24 for you. We’re getting really close to being halfway done!

Dorian, just as he’d decided he would, began to make an effort with the other court boys, and, to his surprise, they weren’t half bad.

 

As a matter a fact, a group of five of them (including Dorian) became friends quite soon after Dorian started trying to be likeable around them.

 

They were all a lot nicer than Dorian had expected them to be, and they were really quite kind to Dorian. They seemed to understand that, unlike all of them, he was soft, gentle, and prefered reading to swordplay and politics. Oddly enough, they also didn’t seem to mind. On the contrary, they seemed to value the different approach to life. Instead of immediately rejecting him the way many young boys would have, they welcomed him and seemed interested in what he had to say, even though that wasn’t much at all.

 

Dorian would have thought that they were playing at something, trying to pull a prank on him, except for the fact that their friendship didn’t just last for a few days.

 

No, it lasted weeks. And then months. Which greatly surprised Dorian.

 

And, as time passed, they all grew closer. They even let Lisa join them sometimes. Dorian still spent more time with her than with the rest, remembering the pain Chaol had caused him, but he didn’t let that stop him from hanging out with the boys.

 

He liked having the company of other boys his age, but he also didn’t feel that he quite fit with them.

 

They liked to talk about money, girls, and would spend hours talking about war and rulers. Dorian didn’t enjoy that, but he waited out those conversations for the better ones, the ones about the universe, and the concept of life. Those conversations, he got the feeling, where only in place because the others wanted him to feel like he was one of them. They did things like that a lot, actually. Dorian appreciated how hard they were trying to make him fit in, but often times it just made him feel like a complete drag, the dead weight, amongst the five of them.

 

The days when he felt particularly like that were the ones that he spent with Lisa.

 

His father had found out about Lisa, but, apparently deciding his son needed friends, let it pass.

 

And throughout all of that, Dorian began to notice changes. He turned fourteen, his voice began to deepen, and he started paying more attention to the details of everything. He also shot up in height, going from about five feet tall to five-four in three months. At this point, he was five-six and didn’t appear to be done growing yet.

 

He wasn’t the only one in his group experiencing this, but they all went through it together, and as they did so, Dorian began to realize how far he’d come.

 

Not just growth wise, but also socially. This time last year, he’d still been friends with Chaol, and Chaol alone.

 

Now, after spending almost a year without him, Dorian was starting to feel like maybe losing Chaol hadn’t been such a bad thing. After all, he was more popular than he’d ever been, and for once didn’t feel numb all the time.

 

But that didn’t stop Dorian from missing Chaol. He still loved Chaol to pieces, and he would have traded almost anything to get him back. To spend late nights in the library with him once more, to huddle in the corner with him at parties, and to discuss deeply philosophical questions with. How he missed the boy he’d grown up with.

 

Dorian looked down, suddenly feeling quite sad.

 

“Are you alright?” Lisa asked him, seeming to notice that something was amiss.

 

“Yeah, yeah, I’m fine. Just reading a sad story,” he responded. “The dog died.”

 

She frowned slightly, but decided to let it go. “Alright.”

 

He looked away from her.

 

He knew she hated it when he lied to her, but there were some things that he just didn’t want to talk to her about, mostly consisting of anything having to do with Chaol and why he was so upset by the rumor that Dorian and Lisa were dating.

 

Luckily though, by now that rumor had been quenched, and they were no longer asked. Lisa was a bit like a sister to him, and people finally seemed to get that.

 

Dorian was mulling that past conversation with Lisa over in his head when he was rudely jerked back to reality by Ashton, one of his new friends.

 

“You paying attention, Dorian?” he asked, pulling Dorian out of a far away land.

 

“Sorry. What were you saying?”

 

Daniel and Zeke laughed a little, but Sebastian and Ashton just rolled their eyes.

 

“We were asking you if you had a crush on anyone, prince,” Zeke said gently.

 

“No, not really,” Dorian shrugged.

 

“Seriously?” Ashton asked. “You’re not any fun.”

 

“Not even Lisa?” Daniel pestered. “You need a girlfriend, Dorian, and we’re going to get you one! You seem lonely, and we’re only going to be able to help if you’re honest with us!”

 

“I am serious!” Dorian said, annoyed. “I don’t have a crush on any girls, nor have I ever. I’m just not there yet. Why don’t you guys grill someone else?”

 

“Fine,” Daniel groaned. “No need to be touchy.”

 

“Yeah,” seconded Sebastian. “You’re weird.”

 

The other boys giggled, and Dorian felt his face heat with their teasing. He hated it when they did that, even though he knew it was all good-natured.

 

But then they went back to talking to each other, and left Dorian alone, feeling very uncomfortable all of the sudden.

 

He stared off into space, not really interested in who liked whom, who was going to which parties, or what new way of pissing off parents had been discovered. He just wanted to know why he was different.

 

And that was exactly what he spent the rest of his time in the courtyard with his friends thinking about. The idea that he wasn’t wired like the rest of them left him perplexed all the way until he got back to his room, where he flopped down with a sigh, like he most nights. Here, finally, he was able to let the day go. Or at least, for the time being.

 

Dorian lay there, watching the canopy of his bed, his mind peacefully quiet, until he realized that he probably should be spending his evening doing something productive. It wasn’t even 9:00 yet, and there were so many things he could be doing!

 

He wasn’t really in the mood for the library, or simply reading in his room either, so he sat down at his cluttered desk and searched around the mountains of papers for his pen and his diary.

 

He hadn’t practiced his magic in a long time, but he’d gotten pretty good before. He figured it was about time that he try again, or else he might lose all the skills he’d learned.

 

It had been almost a year since he’d discovered it, he realized.  _ My, how time flies, _ he thought. He’d still been friends with Chaol—or at least, sort of.

 

He had, even though not flat out practiced, used his magic on occasion in the past few months. He’d used it to turn on the lamps in his bedroom, lift papers from his desk, that sort of thing.

 

Dorian had realized in the very beginning that it wasn’t just an icey sort of magic that he had. From what he’d gathered, he had raw magic.

 

At this point, he was adept at keeping it contained. He’d gotten a grip on his emotions a while ago, so that had made it a lot easier to control his abilities.

 

He sat there, staring at the diary, willing it to open. It took a few tries, but hey—he was out of practice. When it finally did, he focused on turning each of the pages with his mind until he found the first blank one.

 

Then, taking the pen, he began to write in it. It was a slow process, as he had to think very hard about each movement, but the longer he remained at his seat, the faster it began to go. His mind was remembering.

 

After about an hour, he finally went to bed, exhausted.

 

He began to stare once more up at his ceiling in silence. Utter silence. At that moment, he hated silence. He hated how alone it made him feel, even though he knew he wasn’t—not really.

 

He had friends now, didn’t he? There was no reason to ever feel alone again! But he did, and he didn’t like that.

 

Thinking of his friends just brought him back to the topic earlier—crushes. Why wasn’t he there yet? Shouldn’t he be? Everyone else did, so what made him different? Why weren’t there any girls that he wanted to kiss, to court, to date?

 

He squeezed his eyes shut. He had to find a lady he liked, because otherwise he’d marry some bimbo that he hated. He hoped that at the very least, he’d marry a young woman that he liked as a friend, but he really wanted it to be based out of love.

 

He sighed in frustration, and a tiny voice in the back of his head whispered,  _ You’re just different. You were never meant to like girls. _ But he dismissed it. Who else was he supposed to like?

 

**Chapter Release Date: February 24, 2018**


	25. The Questioning Begins

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, chapter 25 guys! Halfway to fifty! Also, this is going to be a fairly short chapter. Hope you don’t mind.
> 
> That being said, we might have some new readers here. As said in chapter one, here is where you should have skipped to if you wanted gloss over the early years. The recap provided is the italicized bunch of paragraphs at the start of the story.

 

_ Dorian Havilliard, Crown Prince of Adarlan, met his best—and only—friend when he was just eight and Chaol was eleven. The two bonded immediately, but, like all friendships, they had difficulties. After just a few years of being friends, Chaol was forced to move back to his homeland of Aneille. This, of course, drove a rift between the friends, though they were still able to see each other occasionally, and write to one another. _

 

_ Dorian and Chaol both wished to escape their birthrights, but only Chaol could possibly do that. After many years spent unhappy, he finally made the decision to abdicate his title and become a member of the royal guard, with the help of a few members on Dorian’s detail. _

 

_ That meant that they were able to see each other once more, which should have meant that they’d grow closer again, right? Wrong. _

 

_ Chaol got a girlfriend, and suddenly all of his time was occupied by her and his training, and so Dorian began to drift from his old friend. In this drifting, however, he met a girl about his age named Lisa, and the two became friends. He also became friends with a group of court boys, who were all girl crazy. At which point he began to feel different, because he wasn’t. _

 

_ Now, wondering why that might be—and trying to feel less alone and more like maybe he has a family—Dorian is turning to Lisa for her advice on his increasing unease with his feelings. Since he doesn’t have Chaol anymore, he tells Lisa everything. But there’s one thing that he’d never tell her—or Chaol, for that matter: Dorian is able to do magic, and he’s known since he was thirteen—so for over a year. _

 

 

* * *

 

This mystery continued to plague Dorian for quite a bit of time, causing him more than a little bit of concern. His father was always stressing to Dorian how important it was to find a good, strong woman that could carry the weight of the crown and, preferably, who he loved.

 

So what would the king think about a son who didn’t love women the way he was supposed to?

 

That thought was the most worrying for Dorian. He couldn’t bear to think about his father being that upset with him just because he was different. His father hated anything and anyone that was different.

 

_ Different. _

 

Dorian didn’t like that word. Or the idea that  _ he  _ was so profoundly different. He liked standing out, and didn’t mind that none of the other boys his age liked books and philosophy, but for some reason, this did bother him. Like they were all judging him…or something like that. This just felt like he was taking it one step too far, somehow.

 

He thought about all of this so much that he even brought it up to Lisa, who had basically become his new counselor-in-chief.

 

“Lisa?” he asked her, after much deliberation as to whether or not he should actually talk to her about it. He was worried she’d just make fun of him for worrying about what other people thought. And for worrying about crushes.

 

Lisa rolled her eyes at Dorian. “I know that tone. You’ve got something on your mind. Come on, don’t be shy. Spill,” she commanded.

 

Dorian pursed his lips, second guessing himself. What would she say? Would she just laugh at him?

 

“Well,” he finally got out, “I’ve just… you know, I’m not in that same place as the other boys my age.”

 

Lisa smirked at him. “And what place would that be? The whole ‘crushes on girls’ thing?”

 

This had been a bad idea. “Yeah,” Dorian forced through his lips nervously.

 

“Dorian, that’s nothing to worry about. It just means you’ll get there later!”

 

“I know, I know,” he said, feeling a little embarrassed. “I shouldn’t have said anything.”

 

“No,” Lisa said, her face softening. “No, Dorian, you should always say something! I’m going to be here for you no matter what, and you can talk to me about anything! I just want you to know that you shouldn’t be worried about this.”

 

“Really?” Dorian asked. “I mean, I just can’t help but feel like I should be. Everything seems to be saying I should—my voice has deepened; I’m growing up. What if I never reach that point? Seriously—what if I don’t? I know we talk all the time about how we like being different, but I don’t think I like this kind of different. I want to fall in love, to find someone to spend the rest of my life with!”

 

Lisa looked him dead in the eyes. “Dorian. You’ll get there. And even if you don’t, that’s totally fine! Falling in love isn’t the most important thing in the world—loving in general is! You can find people to spend the rest of your life with, but you don’t have to love them in a romantic way! You should just relax: You won’t solve anything by worrying about liking girls, and it’s certainly not going to happen any sooner because of the worrying. Besides, you’re going to have to marry whether or not you want to, and you’ll have to marry a woman of adequate blood status. You know that. Whether you fall in love with a woman or not, it’s unlikely you’ll love the one that you marry.”

 

He nodded along. “Yes, but just say that I don’t end up feeling that way—”

 

“Dorian! It’s not a big deal!” Dorian looked away. Lisa groaned. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it like that. Love is a big deal; I’m just trying to say that it’s not something you should be worrying about right now. There are plenty of people who don’t start feeling that way until much later, so maybe you’re one of those people! Or maybe you’re one of the ones that needs to find the right person before they start to feel that way! You’re perfectly normal in that sense, Dorian, and you need to let it go.”

 

Dorian looked at her, and nodded again. “I guess you’re right,” he murmured. “I’ll forget about it.” It wasn’t the entire truth, but he did feel better having talked to her about it, and he decided that perhaps he shouldn’t be so worried.

 

“Thank you. You need to stop listening to those boys and their teasing, I’m telling you. They just make you feel bad!”

 

Lisa was right about that too, Dorian realized. They did make him feel upset. But they also made him feel like he belonged to something for once.

 

_ But maybe that’s not what matters. Maybe I don’t have to belong to something to be whole. After all, I’ve got Lisa, haven’t I? _

 

He dismissed this idea, however, deciding that it was a problem to deal with at a later date. Right now, he was just content to read beside his best friend.

 

**Chapter Release Date: March 3, 2018**


	26. A Shot at Being Friends

A lot happened in the following year.

 

Chaol got appointed to the guard detail, Lisa got her first boyfriend (though they split up quickly), and Dorian stopped hanging out with the other court boys.

 

He knew them all well enough that when the time came, things would be fine, but for now, he figured he really only wanted to stick around the people that he liked. Which really only consisted of Chaol and Lisa, and Chaol was now off-limits.

 

Dorian turned fifteen, and he started to feel like his years of freedom were slipping out of his grasp. He was getting closer and closer to an age where he could potentially rule, should anything happen to his father, and an age where he could marry. That thought scared him. In two and a half years, he could be ruling the country and married to some money-hungry bitch. Gods above.

 

So he tried to focus on happier, smaller things to keep his mind from going there. Books and Lisa, mostly.

 

Tonight, however, he could focus on nothing other than the deafening cello music and his mother’s obnoxious rant about how he really needed to get a girlfriend one of these days. How he needed to start thinking about marriage.

 

He watched the other courtiers on the dance floor, near the refreshment tables, and dining. They all seemed so oblivious, so happy. Why was that? Why was he not content, the way that they all seemed to be?

 

He let out an audible breath.

 

Queen Georgina’s eyes narrowed. “Dorian? Dorian, honey, are you listening to me?”

 

“Yes, mother,” the prince lied as he sat, sprawled across his throne in the most careless position he could muster. He was able to get away with sitting like that when his father wasn’t there. His mother, of course, still scolded him, but she wasn’t in any way like his father.

 

“I wish your father had decided to come to this one,” the queen murmured, shifting where she was, her voice softening. “He never wants to do anything like this.” It was as though she was reading Dorian’s mind.

 

_ Maybe there’s a reason for him constantly skipping. If I had the power, I wouldn’t come to these stupid things either, _ Dorian thought bitterly.

 

Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted Chaol standing by a tall pillar. He was very handsome in his black guard’s uniform, the royal seal plastered upon his left breast.

 

Dorian shook his head slightly.  _ I’m not supposed to think of Chaol as handsome… or, at least not the way I just did. We’re both guys. _

 

Dorian felt his heart groan, and he realised how much he missed Chaol. It had been almost two years since they’d really been friends, but Dorian still wanted Chaol back. He had never wanted to part ways, and in a sense he felt that Chaol hadn’t either. But regardless, they’d grown apart, like many people do. Dorian had, of course, always been in favor of sticking things out through both the good and the bad—he didn’t feel as though friendship was something to be abandoned and cast aside when things got difficult.

 

Dorian had felt like Chaol and he were just as close as they’d always been when Chaol started drifting, but Chaol had just left him behind, and there was nothing that Dorian could have done about it, past or present.

 

At that moment, Chaol looked up from his post and, for a brief second, their gazes met. Chaol looked away. Dorian felt his face heat up.

 

He sighed, and got to his feet. He couldn’t stand being there for a second longer.

 

“Where are you going?” Queen Georgina asked, sounding annoyed. “You said you’d stay!”

 

“No, mother,” Dorian countered. “I said I’d show up. I don’t want to be in this room any more time I have to be.”

 

And with that, he strode from the room.

 

Several ladies tried to stop him along the way, but he just kept pushing past them. He didn’t want to talk to anyone. He wanted to be  _ alone. _ It was so crowded… so warm… so many people.

 

He felt his heart quickening as the sea of courtiers contracted around him. It seemed as though he was suffocating.

 

“Please, just let me through,” he ground out.

 

“Oh, but just one dance!” a lady pleaded.

 

“You simply  _ must  _ stay for a few more,” said yet another, grabbing his arm as she did so.

 

“Let me through,” Dorian repeated himself. He was almost to the door… so close…

 

“Let the prince through,” said a deep voice from behind. “There’s no need to cause a ruckus, ladies. There will be other parties.”

 

Dorian looked around for his saviour, and his eyes fell on…  _ Chaol. _

 

Chaol took Dorian’s arm and cleared a path through all of the people, guiding Dorian through the sea of courtiers and royals as they attempted to speak to the prince.

 

The doors closed behind them as the stepped out of the hall. The two boys stood there, facing each other in awkward silence.

 

“Er… shouldn’t you be getting back?” Dorian asked.

 

“No, my shift just ended,” Chaol responded. Dorian nodded.

 

“Okay.”

 

“You want me to walk you back to your room, seeing as your detail isn’t here right now?”

 

“Yeah, sure,” Dorian said. “But really, I can walk myself.”

 

“Then why’d you say yes?” Chaol smirked.

 

“I— _ Chaol _ ,” he groaned.

 

Chaol just shook his head. “Come on,” he said. “Let’s get going before they all start making excuses to come follow you.”

 

“Yes. Let’s.”

 

The two walked down hallways, mostly remaining quiet, until Chaol finally said, “So, how have things been with you? We haven’t spoken in so long.”

 

“Good, good,” Dorian said, doing his best to sound like he didn’t care about Chaol anymore, like he wasn’t totally thrilled that the other boy actually seemed interesting in Dorian’s current life.

 

Chaol raised an eyebrow. “You know, when you lie, you get this adorable little dimple between your eyebrows. And now you’re narrowing your eyes at me the way you do when you’re not sure what I’m trying to get out of you.”

 

Dorian felt his face heat. How could Chaol still read him so well? “Yes, well…”

 

Chaol smiled at him. “Tell me the truth, please.”

 

Dorian shrugged, defeated. “I don’t know. I’m sad, I guess, but I’ve had worse.” He thought about his slowly worsening moods. He knew he was suffering from depression—there was no doubt about it—but he also didn’t know how to voice what he was feeling. It had been so much worse a few years ago, though, when Chaol had first left. “I… I miss being friends with you. Especially now,” Dorian continued. “I mean, my parents are pestering me about finding a woman that meets their standards, and it won’t be another few years until I’m eighteen! And I figure that you’d have something witty to say about it, that you’d be able to help me through this sort of thing. And then, you’ve finally become a guard, after all these years spent dreaming, and I’m not there for you.”

 

Chaol cocked his head. “I guess I miss being friends with you, too. I especially miss the times in the library. Now that I’m a guard, I have no time to read anymore! I was also kind of thinking the same thing. I mean, I’ve reached my goal, and I wouldn’t have without you. It seems so wrong that you weren’t there through all of it. But I know that’s partially my fault. As for the marriage thing—I’m sorry. I know that’s gotta be rough. I’m not sure if there’s anything you can do to prevent it. On the bright side, though, you don’t really have to start worrying about it until it’s time for you to ascend to the throne.”

 

Dorian nodded distantly. “I suppose so.”

 

“We should hang out again,” Chaol said spontaneously. “Really, we should. I know that you’re no longer friends with any of those court boys, so you’ve got to be a little lonely.”

 

“No really. I mean, okay, yeah, but I’ve still got Lisa.”

 

“That’s my point! Let’s meet in the library sometime when I’m off work!”

 

Dorian nodded enthusiastically. “I’d love that!”

 

“Well then, it’s settled. Goodnight, my prince.”

 

They’d reached Dorian’s room. With regret, Dorian said goodnight back, and then closed the door to his room.

 

Excitement filled his being. He might have a shot at being friends with Chaol again! And what was more, Chaol actually missed hanging out with him! He felt his heart swell, and he realized that he was happier than he had been in years.

 

**Chapter Release Date: March 10, 2018**


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